


Therapeutic.

by hyumagashi



Category: Predator Original Series (1987-1990), Rambo Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe- though I’m not sure what to call this., Angst, Because....angst, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Support Dutch, He needs a huggg, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Men Crying, Mutual Pining, PTSD Rambo, Pining, Scars, Slow Burn, Stress Disorder- PTSD, Therapy, Veterans, it do be mutual tho..., rambo’s a mess, yes... i’m aware that we all hate this pining shit but there’s no way that I cannot write abt it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-01 04:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21378376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyumagashi/pseuds/hyumagashi
Summary: Rambo’s recovery process definitely is not easy, to him, everyday is harder than the next one, and he isn’t sure how much more he can take. Due to a breakdown he had experienced in front of many, the police give him two choices. Therapy or jail.Rambo would have preferred prison, but Sam makes him go to therapy. Where along the way, he’s able to form a new bond with a veteran he’s never met.
Relationships: John Rambo/Alan “Dutch” Schaefer
Comments: 25
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yupyup I ship Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stallone but don’t wanna use the actual people! fuck are y’all gonna do

The veteran continued to lay stomach first on his bed, his head only half-way buried in a pillow, so that his free eye could stare at the window he could just barely see. It proved to be darker in Rambo’s room than it was outside. Rambo wasn’t even keeping track of the time, but he knew that eventually he was going to have to make his way down to that _god awful_ “support group”.

The idea of going to therapy only made Rambo groan. God knew how much he hated that place, and it wasn’t like he had a choice either. Rambo hated the idea of talking to somebody who didn’t even have a clue what it was like to go through the shit that he did about what it felt like to constantly feel tired and miserable all the damn time.

He doesn’t even get a break, it’s almost like there’s never a moment where Rambo’s feeling “okay”. Maybe it’s because of all the things the soldier feels obligated to bottle up, and not for the sake of his image. But it’s almost as though nobody else in this town would _truly_ get it.

Rambo didn’t seek comfort in going to therapy to tell a counselor about the shit he’s seen, but rather not only somebody who really _understood_ what it was like to be John Rambo, but someone close to him as well. The male had trust issues, for a good reason too.

It was pretentious, but John had a right to be. It wasn’t easy being in his state, and the last thing John wanted to hear was _‘It’s going to be okay.’_

It wasn’t going to be okay, it’s not okay. How the hell does one believe that taking these pills were going to make him feel any better? They certainly didn’t, and they don’t. In fact, the first time John decided to take them, he felt awful.

They made him feel physically ill, and he elected never to take them again. Suffering wasn’t so bad he’s only been doing it for so long, he lost track.

John only wished he still had the courage to pick up the phone and talk to Sam again. Sam was a great guy, he was always there when John needed him. Unfortunately, he just couldn’t do it. Why? It’d be embarrassing.

The way he had lost his shit _that_ night, and how it ended up with his face buried in Sam’s jacket, and a trip to the police station. He could only be glad that they let him off easy, as if they could admit how much of a dick that cop was being, but it’s how he ended up in this therapy shit.

He was “emotionally unstable” which wasn’t far from true, but Rambo didn’t see why he needed to go for it. Wasn’t like it wasn’t going to flip a switch, to undo everything that had happened to him. But maybe Sam had a point, maybe this was for the best. He better be fuckin’ right.

Rambo groans, looking at the clock placed next to the veteran’s bed.

‘8:27’

Rambo knew he needed to be at that place by 8:45, at least that’s when the actual “therapy” started to happen. He takes a very lengthy and exhausted sigh, crawling out of his bed. Cringing the second he had turned the lamp on, so he could actually see what he was doing.

_Fuck, he really wished he didn’t have to go to this._

Rambo spent most of his time in bed, without a shirt, occasionally getting up to eat or drink water. But that’s really it.

John looks like a mess, he feels like a mess, he’s a mess. He didn’t think that these would be the effects of him serving for a bit, and he really isn’t sure if he’s proud of it or not.

He feels like he can’t be proud of it, he_ shouldn’t._ He should have died, he wished he had died. None of the comrades deserved the pain and torture they were forced to endure. Though, he can only be glad their deaths saved them from future anger and guilt that they would have had to endure.

Even so, none of them deserved it.. none of them.   
  


Rambo hums, taking his heavy coat off of it’s rack, putting his arms through the sleeves. Man, how Rambo wished he could have somehow kept it together that night. It’s almost like he didn’t even know why panicked the way he did. He just kinda lost it, and it was almost out of his control. And it’s a good thing Sam was there, god knows how much the situation would have escalated, Rambo probably would have ended up in jail.

At last, the vet sucked it up. Opening the door, allowing the cool air to engulf every uncovered bit of his face.   
  


John continues to walk to the building, already knowing what to expect. He sits in a room full of veterans, with one person not doing much to help end what feels like a nightmare to them, but only further explaining their state of mind.

In other words, it was a waste of John’s time. And he hoped that in a couple months the government could just leave him alone, and let him carry on with his life. But based on the aggression he had during his meltdown, that didn’t look like it was happening any time soon.

————————————————

John is able to make it to the building 10 minutes before the actual “therapy” started. It was explained to him that it was going to be a bit before they could actually get started. Which was fine by John, they could take all the time in the world in his eyes. Funny how the patients at this place were ready before the actual counselors at this place. Considering neither of them wanted to be here. But then again, neither did the staff. And John could feel it.

All this place did was make Rambo more depressed than he already was, everything in this place was so god damn sad. The color of the walls were a plain white, occupied by black folding chairs. Awaiting the patients that were just as reluctant to be here, even the colors of the lights made Rambo depressed. Everything here was so depressing and uncomfortable, he hated it.

The counselor for what they liked to call the “Veteran Support Group” claimed that they were finally ready. John sighs, already fighting back tears. _He wasn’t ready for this, not even a little bit. _  
  


Within not even a second of entering this room, John already knew that he wanted to go home. He couldn’t fucking handle this. Everyone here was almost as depressed if not more than John is, nobody here wants to be here, and there were probably some people here who didn’t even want to be _alive._ Which John could understand.

The counselor began to start talking, not like John was listening in the slightest. Instead, he kept himself busy in his own thoughts. Staring at the shoes presented in front of him, while trying to tune out the “advice” that was being given out to the veterans

John missed Sam, he missed him a lot. Why the hell doesn’t he contact him anymore? He’s all that John has, but he feels to ashamed to ask him for help

Rambo hated the situation he was in, he hated feeling helpless. But there really wasn’t anything he could do about this, wasn’t exactly like he could go to war with his trauma, and taking the medication was the last thing on his mind.

Rambo’s eyes meetup with the counselor, his hands were busy with the container in his hand. Rambo wasn’t sure what they wanted, but it seems they needed his attention for this. He could only hope for the best at this point.

Supposedly, it was thought by the counselor figured that these veterans should talk to each other about their struggles, rather than talking to them about it. They understood more about what they were dealing with more than they did, so they figured it couldn’t hurt to try.

This was a terrible idea, Sam shouldn’t have convinced him to come. In fact, he’d be just fine in jail in this moment. John didn’t understand why this “support group” even existed.   
  


Not only did it appear to John that the counselor didn’t wanna do their job, but it was further proving to be an even bigger waste of his time.

For whatever reason, two veterans at a time were chosen to enter a room, sit across from each other, and just talk about their feelings. Only problem with that, is that John wasn’t ready to do that with anybody other than Sam. It’s a shame he couldn’t just walk out, it was a real damn shame.

John began to sit across from this empty black seat, running his hands through his hair that had no proven to become way too long over the course of a few months. John didn’t know who the guy was gonna be, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t have a lot to say to them, and he wasn’t going to force them to talk either.

The door opens, and John makes no attempt to make eye contact with the other vet. Instead, he focuses on his empty container, awaiting to be refilled.

’_9:23’_

It was almost over, and it almost felt like a blessing. John looks up at the vet who was chosen to sit across from him. He was big, slightly intimidating too.

Perhaps it was because of his build, looked like he could bash John’s head in if he wanted to. And at this point, John would have no problems with that.   
  


The two of them locked eyes with each other, Rambo only began to get more nervous than he already was. Neither of them were sure what to say, there wasn’t much to talk about. Neither of them wanted to talk, they barely knew each other. But, assuming that the conversation didn’t have to be about the war, Austrian vet scratched his facial hair, before sitting up straight.

“What’s going through your mind?”

His Austrian accent was probably thicker than the hair on John’s head. John sat in silence for a moment, what was going through his mind? Could he find anything else that wasn’t related to a painful experience? Anything at all?

”Blank.”

John probably spoke for the first time in days, and the change in his voice even surprised him a little. The best way the Austrian vet would describe it, there was not a shred of hope in his voice.

The Austrian male nodded, he probably would have said the same thing too. Nobody was comfortable enough to be vulnerable to anyone other than the people they trusted

He decided not to ask anything more than that when it came to his time at war, he could relate. After all, he has lost people too. Almost all of his comrades. It killed him everyday, sure. But he’s trying his hardest to stay afloat.

”I’m Alan,” He reached out his hand, offering it to Rambo. Rambo nods, shaking his hand. Before letting Alan finish his introduction. “Alan Schaefer.”

Rambo nodded, still fumbling with the empty container in his right hand. It’d be rude if he just didn’t introduce himself right after the other veteran did so, even if he was as reluctant as he was to do it.

”Rambo.”

Which only made Alan raise a brow, if that was his first name, it was frankly a weird one. But kinda cool as well.

”That’s your first name?”

John figured keeping it short and simple would be enough, not for this guy apparently. It didn’t matter, it only made sense anyway.

”John Rambo.”

Rambo begins to break eye contact, shifting his eyes toward walls, or whatever wasn’t the face of the larger vet. And Alan quickly began to pick up on it, but decided not to comment on it for now.

”I know you don’t want to,” John begins to sit up straight, making eye contact with Alan once more. Allowing Alan to finish his suggestion. “But I suppose we should get to know each other a bit.”

John slowly nodded, mentally groaning at the suggestion. Maybe this wasn’t too bad though, at least somebody understood to some extent, right?

Rambo doesn’t say much to the suggestion, instead he continues to observe the veteran presented in front of him. His boots were pretty big for how cold it was outside, wasn’t that cold. But perhaps their comfortable, or he likes the way they look. Wearing a tank top in this weather is definitely not advised, but maybe the coat that was hung around his shoulder would make up for that. He still wore camo pants though, which was strange. Rambo wasn’t sure why _anyone_ would wanna put that on again. Especially because of the memories that would make it’s way back to the surface, the _painful ones._

“How’s life been treating you, Rambo?”

Did he really have to answer this? He really didn’t want to answer it. Life’s been awful for him.

”Same as always.”

Assuming Alan even knew what that meant, and he did. Well, not really. But he could tell what that meant based on the looks of this guy.

”That’s..,” Alan decided to shut up, he already knew that it wasn’t a good thing. Sometimes, he wished he was a little better at this whole “social interaction” thing. ”Is ‘Rambo’ a nickname?”

John shrugs, leaning back into his seat.

”Guess you could say that.”

Alan nods, running his knuckles up and down his stubble. Supposedly, it was John’s turn to break the silence, and he could only hope it wouldn’t blow smoke in his face.

”What did you..go by on the field?”

Not that it was relevant, John was just curious. Alan only began to smile at his curiosity, he hasn’t heard anybody call him by that name in a minute.

”Dutch. Nobody’s called me that in years.”

Alan nods, which only made Rambo smile softly at his enthusiasm. John wished he was half as happy as Dutch appeared to be.

”It’s a weird name, I know. But it was_ my_ nickname, and I can’t remember as to why it’s so special to me.”

Perhaps it was because it was linked to a memory associated with his fellow comrades, he missed them so much. He wished they were still here with him. They were all he had.

”It is weird, long as it works for you though.”

Rambo replies, only making Dutch shrug.

“Do you talk to anybody anymore?”

The satisfaction of knowing this veteran he had only been speaking to for 13 minutes had somebody to talk would be more than enough for Alan, and he couldn’t explain why it would make him so happy.   
  


Maybe it’s because he’s used to looking after everybody else. John slowly nods, he did have people to talk to. One. There was Mitch, but he rarely ever spoke to him for whatever reason. Then there was Sam, the man who was with him almost every single day. The man who promised to protect him.

He did all that he could, he’s _doing _all he can. And it’s not his fault he’s not here right now.

”Not many but,” Rambo sighs, shaking his head at the thoughts that rolled into his head as soon as he started thinking about the people he felt well, safe around.

_Safe_.

”They get me through the day.” John concludes.

”And you?”

Alan shakes his head, and it’s a real damn shame he’s silently suffer alone.

”Nobody. My family’s not in this country, and I really have no way to contact them. Not that they’d want to see me anyway,” Alan softly chuckles, hoping it would lighten the mood.

”I came here against their wishes, they wanted me to stay in Austria.,” Dutch begins to turn his head to face the wall, sighing as he slightly regrets the decision he made. “And yet I came here. For a better life.”

”I joined the military because.. I felt like I owed it to this country. For giving me the life I have now. Or rather the life I _had_. But that went up in flames very quickly.” Dutch shakily sighs, his eyes returning to John’s “It wasn’t easy moving here either.”

Dutch shurgs. And his story only began to make John feel even worse, he felt sorry for the guy. Yep, John had two people, but Alan had nobody. Not even his family, which John could get behind. His childhood wasn’t the greatest either.

“Do you ever regret coming here?”

Dutch had never thought about it that deeply but, there were times where he wished he could see his family one more.

”Oh, sure,” Alan nods “There are times where I wish I hadn’t left but, my life’s better here.”

‘_9:43’_

John’s surprised at Alan’s ability to open up the way he did, to a complete stranger too. He could only wish to have the courage to do so as well.

”What about you? What made you join?”

John’s taken a back by this question, and he isn’t sure if he’s ready to even answer it yet. He’s not even sure if he wants to try.

”I..,” There’s silence for a couple seconds, before John attempts to try again. He strokes his stubble, desperately waiting for something to come out. “I don’t..”

He can’t, he can’t fucking do it. It was fine though, Alan completely understood.

”You don’t have to tell me,” Dutch informs “It’s not easy for any of us.”

John nods, before the two of them began to sit in silence. Their thoughts are interrupted by the counselor entering the room, letting them know that they could leave now. _Thank god._

”Good talk.”

Dutch nods, shaking John’s hand with John simply replying with a “Yes, sir.”

”See you next week?”

Which only made John groan again, forgetting he needed to be here every week.

”Neither of us have a choice.”

John shrugs, before the two veterans head their separate ways.

The walk home was frankly quite relaxing, it was the first time in awhile that John felt so..refreshed. And it wasn’t the therapy part that made him feel this way, therapy was pointless to him. But rather the feeling that.. he wasn’t alone. Clearly, Rambo and Dutch had a bit in common. Which made John feel safe and at peace. He did have to wonder how Dutch had been holding up. He seemed fine, clearly he took care of himself better than anybody else in that room. That and his size made him stand out.

Judging by everything Dutch had told him, clearly there was more than what met the eye. He was interesting to say the least, too bad he’s not sure when they’ll ever talk again. Rambo makes his way to his bed room, setting the container of medication he wasn’t going to take on his desk, while he lied down back first on his bed.

Perhaps, going wasn’t so bad. But John was still convinced that he hated it, and was going to get himself outta there eventually. He wondered how Sam was doing right about now, Rambo’s sure he would have liked Alan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually, the therapy idea came from another Stallone/Schwarzenegger fic I read so yes read that fic it’s like at the top of the Rambo fics I think


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the way I wrote this while I was tired 😐

It’s been no longer than a week since Rambo had made his way to the last session, let alone out of the house in general. He repeats the process of dreading the idea of therapy, lying in bed until the last second; the moment he needed to leave.

John turns himself around, doing nothing but staring at the ceiling for 3 minutes. Wishing _so badly _that he didn’t have to go, but he needed to. He promised Sam that he would go. They last thing he wanted to do was upset one of the only people he trusted. Again, he’d much rather be in jail, but Sam thought otherwise.   
  


Sam believed John could better himself, he could recover like he’s supposed to. Perhaps if John went to therapy, and took the medication he was prescribed, he could live a normal life.

_A normal_ life.

There were times were Rambo wished the colonel would just give up on him. He could spend his time and energy on other _better_ things. It’s so confusing to John, to think that somebody would care about a man like him as much as Sam did. He’s uninteresting, at least that’s what John would tell you.

John sighs, slipping a coat on. Making his way down to the building. It was warmer than he thought it’d be tonight, most likely because of the fact that it was really cold outside. Colder than it was the previous week.

This doesn’t make John feel any better though, the warmth of the heaters may have been nice. But the environment of the room also occupied with scarred veterans, still felt exhausting to be in.

John swore he could just fall asleep right there in the waiting room. But not only was it physically exhausting for him, it was also emotionally exhausting for him. Did he really deserve to be held hostage in this place with nothing but white and beige walls for an hour?

_‘Is this where I’m supposed to_ be?’ Rambo thought to himself. Even though he knows he’d much rather be dead.

The counselor then began to enter the waiting room, this time earlier than they did last week. And they pulled the group of veterans into another room, John included.

John seats himself, staring at his feet once more. He began to look around the room, looking for things that would help him tune out this counselor that was trying they’re best to give the veterans advice on better their life. And honestly, Rambo wasn’t trying to hear it.

Rambo was fine. He had always been “fine”. He wasn’t going to take advice from someone who had no idea what he was going through. Besides, he was doing alright. At least, that’s what he thinks.

His mind started to wander to other places, specifically to how he got to this place in the first place. He hates to acknowledged the fact that it even _happened._ It seems like cops were after him everywhere. Even if it wasn’t exactly what it was in Hope, it felt way too similar for Rambo.

The two of them were walking for quite awhile, The place Sam had rented for John was a little ways from the area he needed to pick the veteran up, there were able to walk to the place though. So Sam didn’t see a reason to use any other source of transportation.

The two of them were walking, minding their own business. This was before Sam decided to grab something for John and himself to eat, John must have been hungry. Given the fact he didn’t eat anything for 37 hours.

”I’ll get us something to eat, just keep walking.”

Sam informs.   
  


John nods, continuing to walk. He wasn’t really sure where the house was, but Sam gave him a piece of paper with the address of his new home on it. And John was generally good with directions, so he continued to head to the address.

John only kept walking, making note of his surroundings. He was still a little ways from the house, but he didn’t mind. Walking cleared his mind anyway, so it wasn’t an inconvenience to him.

The cop driving around town wasn’t too sure if he had seen this man before, he lifted a brow at his appearance. He thought John was homeless. And to an extent, he was. Maybe it was the absence of Sam that made the cop draw some sort of suspicion.   
  


He turned his car around, approaching John. With the veteran barely even noticing he had wanted something. He rolled his window down, addressing John with a simple “Good Afternoon.”

John turns to face the cop, but doesn’t reply to his good afternoon. If this cop wanted something from him, he should just come right out and say it. Now was not the time mess with John because you felt like it. So Rambo keeps his glare on the cop, adjusting his parka.

”How are ya’?”

Again, the soft spoken veteran made no attempt to respond to his “friendly” gesture. John hated cops, especially after what had happened in Hope. The cop was beginning to get really annoyed by John’s hostility, and was beginning to wonder who the hell this guy thought he was and why he was here.

”Can you at least tell me what you’re doin’ here?”

Why did he care? Since when did cops _ever_ care about what John was doing.

”Waiting for someone.”

That was about it, really. He was doing nothing more but waiting for Sam to return. And he was hoping that would happen soon. He didn’t wanna deal with this cop any longer.

”Who are you waiting for?”

Did Rambo need to answer this? He probably didn’t even know the man anyway.

”Friend.”

The cop sighs, looking behind his car to see if there was any evidence of this “friend” he was speaking of. But didn’t see anybody around, the town was quiet, like it was supposed to be.

”Where’s this friend?”

This was starting to become extremely irritating for the both of them, more so John thought. He really disliked cops, and couldn’t see why he had to stop him in his tracks to ask him a few questions, for what exactly anyway? He was just trying to get to his new place.

Rambo shrugs, he wasn’t sure. They parted ways not too long ago anyway, but Sam told him to keep walking. And that was just about what he decided he was going to do, at least until he was stopped.

The cop isn't sure what to do with John at this point, he’s not sure what type of energy he’s getting from the veteran, but he knows it’s not a good one. As this guy is seemingly.. dangerous.

“Get in. I’ll get you to where you need to be.”

John sighs, knowing where this was going to go if he didn’t do what he was told. But he didn’t care, he didn’t want to step into that car. Why would he anyway? He was fine on his own.

“It’s fine, I know where I need to be.”

John gravelly replies, before beginning to continue on his way to his new place. Annoyed, the cop begins to slowly drive towards the veteran. His pace being the same as Rambo's.

“If you know what’s good for ya’, you’d get in the car.”

Jesus, were cops _ always _this aggressive? What for? Rambo didn’t really do much of anything, other than wanting to make it to his place. John doesn’t really take note of the cops threat, he almost ignores it. As his walked had not stopped.

With food in his right hand, Sam tried to do all he could to catch up with Rambo. Getting the food took way longer than Sam had originally anticipated, and Rambo was probably already long gone. Sam just hoped he wasn’t lost, because even Sam got lost in this town every now and then.

Sam continues to walk, hoping that John had made it to the house he had bought for him. Though, what he sees next, almost makes him want to drop the food in his hand. 

Sam rushes to the scene as fast as his body will allow him to go, to meet Rambo up against the hood of a car, behind a cop who was holding his boy down harder than he should have.

Sam lifted his brow, another arrest? Rambo wasn’t the type of person to do anything “illegal”. So did he do something? Did cops just like to pick on him?

Sam places the food on the hood of the car, making eye contact with the officer very quickly. It isn’t long before the cop soon realizes who this guy is. Or could be at least.

“You this guy’s friend?”

The cop asks, still struggling to keep Rambo still. Rambo _ really _wished this wasn’t happening right now. He felt uncomfortable, and he was struggling to breathe as this cop’s hand was gripping at his neck.

“Suppose you could say that,” Sam responds, though it doesn’t take him long to notice where his hand is placed. And it’s advised that he moves it. If Rambo can’t breathe, Sam is sure this cop wouldn’t want blood on his hands. “You should let him go, I don’t think he can breathe.”

The cop scoffs, pressing harder on Rambo’s back. Doing just about anything to keep the veteran from moving.

“He’s alright, he’s a big guy. He can handle it.”

Sam’s day wasn’t exactly the best, and this situation wasn’t making it any better. Especially with John struggling to breathe. Sam can do nothing but cringe. He wants to get involved, but he isn’t sure how to. But he knew he needed to think of something.

“Do it, I don’t think he can breathe.”

The cop shoots an extremely disapproved look Sam’s way, and before the cop can reply, Rambo manages to break out of the cops grasp. With a reaction driven by nothing but pure panic, Rambo punches the cop in his jaw.

This wasn’t good at all, considering the fact that the two of them couldn’t leave the scene. Not unless they couldn’t come to an agreement.

Rambo didn’t know what had gotten into him, or what inside him compelled him to do this. But he was _ scared _, and shaken up by his inability to breathe. So Rambo picks the cop up from his collar, and proceeded to… punch the cop. He didn’t very far with it though, as Sam stopped his actions driven by euphoria and panic as soon as they started. He knew the Hope situation wasn’t easy, but John couldn’t act out now.

“Rambo!”

He pushes the shorter male off of the cop, picking him up so that he’s standing up right. But it appears that Rambo doesn’t want to sit still. He tries to leave the scene, but he doesn’t get very far. As Sam pushes the shorter male so he’s on the ground. He meant nothing by it, it just seemed to be an effective way to keep Rambo from leaving. But it only made Rambo panic more, pushing Sam away from his as soon as he tried to keep him still. Rambo _ wanted _ to stay still, he _ wanted _to trust Sam. But at this moment, he couldn’t trust anybody. Even Sam appeared as though he wanted to hurt him.

Rambo’s shaking, his ankle hurts, and he doesn’t know what the hell to do. Sam places both hands on his shoulders, as gently as he could. Being sure not to startle the veteran. It’s hard for Sam to watch, Rambo internally breaking down the way he was. You couldn’t tell by his facial expression, but nothing felt safe to him.

“We can’t leave now, Johnny.”

It wasn’t like John was completely listening, he was in the middle of trying to recollect himself, yet it seemed like nothing was working. He makes eye contact with Sam, reassuring him that he did _ nothing. _

“I didn’t do anything.”

He’s still shaking, he wants to leave, but he couldn’t. And Rambo doesn’t know why he feels so threatened, he just doesn’t want to be abused, _ again. _

_ “ _I figured you didn’t, John.”

Sam responds, he attempts to console him, but the gesture given from John only further proved that he wasn’t ready for physical contact yet. Sam stays with John, before this cop decides what he wants to do with them. He had already called for backup, he could tell as the cop was hiding in his car, while more police cars started to roll in.

Sam stands at the sight of them, knowing nothing good was going to come out of this. Unfortunately for John, the cop cars rolling in started to make him panic way more than he’s ever panicked before. Despite his Ankle, he tries to flee the scene again. Only to be stopped by Sam again. The two begin to get themselves into a rumble, with John trying to get Sam off of him, and Sam trying to stay onto the veteran. He eventually finds his feet, keeping the two of them still for awhile.

“John.”

The stern sound of his voice isn’t enough to keep Rambo still, as he begins to try to shake out of his grasp, but to no avail.

_ “Johnny.” _

At this point, the veteran is desperate. Though he doesn’t try to move, he clings onto him. Seeking for any sort of comfort. Wanting so desperately to believe that Sam wouldn’t let these cops take him to their station.

“Don’t let them take me, Sam. _ Please _, don’t let them do it.”

There was really nothing Sam could do, he couldn’t protect John the way he knew he needed to at the moment, and Sam had no idea what he could do to keep Rambo away from them. He’s still trying to keep Rambo still, though he didn’t need to do much. As Rambo had already clung onto his coat.

“I don’t know if I can, Johnny,” He makes eye contact with the approaching officer, unsure of what his intentions were. He kept Rambo close to him, not wanting to risk him acting out of fear.

“He’s gotta come with me.”

_ No..Rambo wasn’t going to do that. _The safe feeling he was seeking when he clung onto Sam seemed to have vanished as soon as it appeared. Sam could almost feel John try to leave, and tries his best to console the shaken up veteran.

“It’s alright, Rambo.”, They weren’t going to hurt him Sam wasn’t going to allow them to hurt him again. “Let me come with him.”

The cop wasn’t even sure if he could allow Sam to get in the car with Rambo, but he didn’t see that much of a problem with it.

“Fine, get in.”

Sam nods, allowing himself to slowly follow the cop while Rambo was behind him. There was a lot of resistance from the veteran, he couldn’t find himself to be safe with Sam seated in the car with him. Why was he here? _ He didn’t do anything. _

Rambo sits in the back of the sheriff's along side Sam, both hands are cuffed. His breathing is irregular, and it almost looked like tears were threatening to fall from his eyelids. He doesn’t even like to remember how crying made him feel.

_ ‘You’re alright.’ _

“I didn’t do anything, Sam,” John reassures, almost incoherently. “I didn’t _ do _anything, you gotta believe me.”

Sam knew he didn’t, he wanted nothing to do with cops. Sam nods, putting a hand on Rambo’s chest.

“I know you didn’t, Johnny,” Sam lets out a sigh as Rambo’s breathing started to regulate. Finding the comfort he was so desperately looking for, comfort that could only be found in people Rambo trusted. “I know you didn’t.”

Sam removes his hand from his chest, and Rambo leans his hand against the window. Rambo sniffles, not sure what to do about it the situation he was in. And he could only hope they weren’t going to take him in again.

As soon as they arrived at the police station, The two of them made their way into the station. With Rambo threatening to breakdown right where he was standing.

Rambo is seated, he constantly sniffling, it appears that he wants to say something, but it’d sound extremely incoherent in his state. Sam’s moved to another room, for whatever reason. He wasn’t sure why Rambo couldn’t come with him. And he doesn’t question it for awhile. Sam seats himself down, silently hoping that Rambo wasn’t have a panic attack.

Soon, the warden joined the room with Sam. Sam didn’t know what for, but he was already getting really nervous.

“I take it you’re with that man?”

Sam nods, slightly afraid of what might _ could _happen to him.

“Yes, he couldn’t go alone.”

Which wasn’t exactly a lie, in fact the situation would have probably ended up a lot worse without him. The Warden nods, he wasn’t sure what to do with the two of them. It was clear to him that Rambo was unstable, but he wasn’t the one who provoked the cop. It was the other way around, though he did punch him a couple times.

This was _ not _an easy situation for any of them, which caused the warden to sit in thought for a little bit. Though, he had an idea.

“How ‘bout we make an agreement.”

Curious, Sam eagerly asked the warden what he meant.

“What is it?”

Questions Sam, while the warden adjusts himself on his seat.

“We can forget this even happened, _ if _ your friend goes to therapy.”

Sam wasn’t sure about it for awhile, he knew how much Rambo hated the idea of therapy. And if there was another alternative, he’d do it to make sure Rambo isn’t doing shit he’s not comfortable with. But it seemed this was the only way he could keep Rambo safe. Sam sighed, nodding in agreement.

“He’ll go.”

And Rambo more than likely wasn’t going to agree, but it wasn’t like Sam was going to give the shorter male much of a choice.

Sam meets the mumbling Rambo back outside, and although he was still shocked, the cop announced that they were free to go if Sam vowed to keep his promise.

Sam nods, exiting the station with Rambo.

This is how he ended up at this place, Sam treated him as though he was his own. Yet Rambo is still too ashamed to reach out to him for help. He felt weak, Sam expected more he felt.

His thoughts are yet again interrupted by the movement of the other veterans moving to their rooms. Rambo is then moved into another room by the counselor.

He seats himself down, playing with his fingers until the other veteran made their entrance. At the sound of heavy footsteps, John looks up. It’s Alan, which for some reason pleased Rambo. It was strange, he felt relieved. Perhaps because of the fact this man made him feel like he wasn’t alone.

Alan smiles, sitting across from John.

“How are you? John, was it?”

Rambo nods, confirming that was him.

“Alright.”

Rambo simply replies, there wasn’t much for him to say. All day for him is spent at home, in bed. He _ really _

missed his friends. Not just Sam and Mitch, but people he would have really be able to relate to. And there’s not a day that goes by where Rambo doesn’t wish they were still alive.

Dutch nods, getting himself comfortable in his chair once more. The two of them aren’t really sure how to fill the silence in this room, neither of their lives were interesting, their current ones. Their lives used to be interesting, but neither of them wanted to bring it up.

“Do you..,” Was it weird to ask him about this? He didn’t really _ know _the other veteran. But that was kind of the point. They were both veterans, depending on others to live a normal life. Alan believed they were in this together, in a way, he was right. “Do you take care of yourself, John?”

“I’m sorry?” John questions, his eyebrow is raised, and he tilts his head ever so slightly. What did that mean? John knew the answer. No, not at all. He just never liked to admit it.

“I’m sorry. I suppose I just like to check on others.”

It became a habit shortly after becoming a leader, a responsibility that required Dutch to always make sure his comrades were okay. John nods, that was nice. He’s glad someone cared.

“It’s alright.”

Rambo shrugs, leaning back into his seat. Rambo’s head is over the chair, and he swore he was gonna fall asleep. Though, his fatigue is interrupted by Dutch’s more than unexpected question.

“Your meds, do you take them?”

_ That _was ballsy, and it wasn’t like John was expecting it either. He had no idea what to do or say, how does he even reply to this? Should Rambo just..be honest?

The veteran sighs, still keeping the same unreadable expression on his face

“No.”

And Alan has no idea why, but he seemed to be really upset to hear that. He wanted _ better _for this veteran. Even if he didn’t know him personally, it’s lovely to hear when people are taking care of themselves.

“Well, why?”

Simply because they made Rambo feel awful, and he hated the idea of a pill making his life easier.

“I feel like I’m gonna puke when I take them.”

Rambo responds, which only seemed to make Dutch cross his arms in confusion.

“For a little bit, yes. It’s just something you get used to”

He _ could _be right, but it didn’t appear that he even took these things. He looked completely fine, but again, there was more than what met the eye to John.

“I’m just.. not gonna take them.”

He thought he had no reason to, the one time he elected to take them, it made him feel sick afterwards, and he elected never to take them again.

“You do want to _ feel _better, no?”

Alan questions. He did, John really did. He just hated the idea of taking them to do it.

“They won’t fix what’s broken.”

Which might have been true but, that’s better than nothing.

Alan tilts his head at the reply, they were made to be that way, at least for awhile anyways.

“It works for the time being.”

Alan shrugs, he wasn’t sure if that was true or not. But it wasn’t exactly _ false _. John rolls his eyes, this conversation was proving to become draining, and the veteran really didn’t feel like talking about his medication. At least not anymore.

“For the time being,” What did Dutch know? “Are you even on it?”

Dutch weakly smiles, nodding at the shorter veteran.

“I am.”

Perhaps the tone of voice Rambo decided to use wasn’t the best one. Sure, it was frustrating. Though, he’s only trying to show that he cares. Plus, turns out he was on them too.

The room’s quiet for awhile, before Rambo decides to apologize for becoming so frustrated.

“I’m sorry.”

Alan shakes his head. Frankly, he didn’t even notice the veteran’s frustration.

“No mind.”

“No, really. I’m sorry, life ain’t easy for the both of us.” Rambo apologizes, before Dutch nods to confirm he didn’t see what the issue was.

“Pay no mind to it, Johnny.”

Though it was strange to hear somebody other than Sam call him “Johnny”, the shorter male didn’t seem to mind.

The counselor enters the room again, confirming that they could leave if desired, the two of them stand, making their way out of the building.

Dutch appears to be walking in the same direction as Rambo, just so he could get something to eat. Though, while he was there, might as well try to make a new friend.

“I think it’d be nice if we talked to each other more. Y’know, outside of therapy.”

Dutch suggests, which only makes Rambo lift a brow.

“What are you suggesting?”

Alan smiles, hoping that this would go well.

“Let’s be friends.”

The suggestion didn’t sound like a bad idea, the two of them seemed to have a bit in common anyway. And Alan seemed like a really down to earth person, there was no reason as to why they _ shouldn’t _be friends

“Sure. I’m nothing interesting though.”

Alan only begins to laugh, reassuring John that he was way more important than he thought.

“I believe there’s more than what meets the eye, Rambo.”

Alan smiles, before walking off to get what he needed. Rambo only began to sigh, walking off as well. Guy seemed pretty optimistic, despite losing everything.

Rambo arrives at his home, not even bothering to head to the bathroom, he sighs. Plopping onto his bed, face first. He begins to turn his head , soon facing the phone. There was only one person on his mind at that moment.

_ Sam. _

Rambo needed Sam, a lot. Unfortunately for him, he just...couldn’t bring himself to do it. Brushing off the idea of him even doing so, and drifting to sleep.

_ “Stand up, Johnny.” _

_ Sam instructs. _

_ “Tell me what happened.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn my portrayal of Rambo is kinda baby....


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhh i dunno how mental illness diagnosis work so you’ll have to bare with me on this one :( tell me what I could fix though!

_ Rambo stands as soon as Sam commands him too. Still sniffling, while tears were streaming down his face, he nods. Beginning to tell Sam everything that had happened. _

_ “They asked me questions about my mental state.” _

_ Sam couldn’t help but feel bad for his boy. He was so afraid, and couldn’t even recognize it. Because of the way he was trained to ignore pain. _

_ “What did they find?” _

_ Wiping tears from his eyes, Rambo begins to shakily answer the question. _

_ “They say I have PTSD.” _

_ “And?” He felt like he already knew the answer, given the amount of pain he was forced to endure _

_ “Depression.” _

_ Poor boy. Sam never realized it was this bad. The veteran has been through so much though, so he probably should have seen this diagnosis coming. He lost his friends, feels like he has nothing to live for. And all Sam can do is apologize for it and just be there for him. _

_ “They put you on medication, right?” _

_ Even though he wouldn’t be getting them until a couple days from now, he heavily showed reluctance to take them. _

_ “No, not yet.” _

_ Rambo sniffles, and eyes are still glued to the floor. He couldn’t understand why making eye contact with Sam was proving to be so challenging now, he hated it. _

_ “When are they giving them to you.” _

_ Rambo runs his fingers through his hair, shakily sighing before answering his question. _

_ “I have to pick them up tomorrow.” _

_ “I’ll do it,” Sam insists “you just stay home and rest.” _

_ Rambo makes eye contact with Sam, not really knowing how to feel about the amount of emotion that he displayed in that moment. _

_ “Okay,” Is all he says, though he appreciated it. He didn’t want to have to show up at this place again.  _

_ Sam was nervous, he didn’t know how he was going to tell Rambo this without upsetting him. Even if it was shown explicitly, Sam could always tell when John was upset. He sighs, walking Rambo out of the police station. Sam begins to subconsciously bite his lip. He was going to be really upset. _

_ “Johnny,” There was really no easy way to tell him this. “You’re..going to attend therapy next week.” _

_ Though, his expression was still unreadable, Sam could tell that John was upset with what he had just told him. Was he...was he that weak? _

_ “I need you to go, Johnny,” Wasn’t like either of them wanted Rambo in jail anyway. “Please? Can you do that for me?” _

_ Only because Sam asked him to..it was the least he could do after the panic attack he had just had. Added with him begging Sam not to let him go. _

_ “Okay.” _

_ Reluctance was still lingering in the veteran’s voice, the feeling of defeat could very heavily be heard in his voice. And it only made Sam’s stomach coil. He never realized it was  _ _ this  _ _ bad. _

It’s been around four weeks, and John still feels the same way about this place. He hates it more than anything. He’s so tired, he’s so  _ fucking  _ tired. He feels nothing but regret in this life, why’d his friends have to die? Why wasn’t he… why wasn’t he dead.

John shakily sighs as memories of the people he was close to began to resurface at an extremely uncomfortable rate. Why now, was he beginning to have these thoughts?

John doesn’t question it for too long, he makes his way to the building. Trying to decide whether or not he actually wanted to enter the building or not. If it was up to him, he’d be at home. But supposedly this was better than nothing.

He stands outside for a bit, it’s cold. Which John soon begins to translate as warmth. His hands might have been cold, though he decided to pretend he didn’t notice.

He stands around for awhile, trying to tell himself not to go back home. Before he hears heavy, but awfully familiar footsteps approach his left, it was Alan.

As Alan approaches, with both hands in his coat, he smiles at John. Beginning to stand next to the shorter veteran.

“You’re okay?”

“Yes,” even if that wasn’t exactly true. There was no reason for Rambo to dump all of his problems on Dutch. He feels it’s not fair.

“And you  _ are _ taking your medication,” The beginning of that sentence only began to make Rambo internally groan once more. “Like you said you would?”

“I never said that I would.”

Which might have been true, but that never mattered to Dutch. Even if he didn’t outright say that he would, Dutch kind of hoped that he wouldn’t  _ have  _ to say it.

“Sure I just.. I don’t know. I was under the impression that you did.”

It may have sounded like that. John’s stomach begins to coil as soon as he hears the disappointment in Dutch’s voice. It’s strange, because he seems almost hurt by the fact that John’s not taking care of himself the way he should be.

“I’m sorry.”

And Dutch isn’t sure how to reply to it, what is he sorry for? Not taking them? Or something entirely different? 

“Please, take them.”

John’s kinda taken aback by this plead, it’s..it’s surprising. And the coil in his stomach slowly begins to ease. He’s only talked to this guy for 3 days. Yet, he cares for John on a level not even he could understand.

“I don’t,” The cool air around the two of them made the shorter veteran cough, yet at the same time he just wasn’t sure if he could answer this. “They make me feel sick.”

Which wasn’t much of a surprising answer, Alan remembers feeling sick after taking them too. But he supposed it was just something you had to get used to.

“I think it’s just something you get used to,” Alan shrugs, moving his hands to his pocket. “They’re supposed to help you too.”

“Really? Because I felt the same after taking them.”

Dutch wasn’t sure what he was going to do with this guy, he cared for him a lot. He was his only friend, and supposedly the fear of losing Rambo as well is why he’s so worried about his shorter friend.

“Just..take them. Please? I’ll even go out of my way to make sure you do.”

“Why do you..,” He turns to face the taller vet, yet looks at anything else to avoid eye contact. “Why do you care?”

The question surprises Dutch, did he not  _ want  _ him to care? He wasn’t sure how to feel about the question, but it stung.

“It’s because you’re all I have.”

Right.. that was true. Dutch didn’t have much of anybody, he didn’t have anybody. And so Rambo just stands there, not really knowing what to say. He’s not sure why guilt is making his throat swell up. He didn’t do anything, but.. supposedly he felt bad for Dutch. And caught onto his reasoning for filling in as a parent very quickly.

“Sorry, I’ll take them.”

Dutch worried too much, he knew that he did. But it wasn’t like anybody else could exactly blame him. After losing what he’s lost, anyone would. He smiles, happy that he somehow got Rambo to agree to taking them.

“Thanks.”

The two of them share a soft but very genuine smile, it wasn’t much, but it was enough to let the two of them know that they weren’t alone. Eventually, it’s time to go inside. Which makes John sigh, he really didn’t wanna do this. And Dutch understood this, he pats the shorter veteran’s should. Slightly shaking him, giving him a look that read;  _ ‘You’ll be okay.’  _ And maybe he was right.

The two of them followed the other veteran’s inside the other room. Rambo’s anxiety began to build up again, but it wasn’t as bad as it was on his first day here. He was a wreck. With Dutch standing right next to him, he felt okay. Perhaps even safe. His company was much appreciated.

They all make their way to their seats, and it’s not long before John wants to leave. Even if his friend is right next to him, he’d rather be with him outside of this place.

For the next hour, the group of veteran’s are told about the effects of their struggles, and how to handle them. Almost in a tone where they  _ knew  _ everything that everyone had been through. Which was just bullshit, to John.

He wasn’t listening to half of what they said, because it was all just “take your meds” or “talk about it”. But it’s not easy, it really isn’t. Everybody in this room had tried, but supposedly that was why they were here. They were here because they had no idea  _ how  _ to talk about it. And it wasn’t like anybody would understand either.

Everyday for John is filled with nothing but sorrow and guilt, for reason that he hopes to god nobody else will have to endure. Losing your friends in war or even outside of war was never fun, getting harassed by the cops was never fun. Mental breakdowns in front of the colonel, was also never fun. And it’s almost like he doesn’t even know how to react to any of it anymore.

Rambo sighs, learning nothing from this session. This was all just a waste of time, and he’s so confused as to why Sam  _ needed  _ him to do this. John didn’t need this, he was fine.

After what felt like forever, this dreadful session was finally over. And everybody could finally go home. The mood in this room was extremely straight forward,  _ nobody _ learned anything or enjoyed this session. Everyone just wanted to go home, it’s ridiculous how many veterans wanted to just walk out of this room and never come back. John couldn’t blame them for a second.

The two of them made their way out of the building. With the both of them deciding to walk in the same direction. Only because they seemed to enjoy each other’s company, despite only knowing each other for as long as they have.

John’s almost at his place, and Dutch decides it’s probably time for him to head home too. But before he does, he’d like to see if Rambo would like to see him outside of therapy.

“John,” Before he could continue walking, he stops, turning around to see what it was he needed.

“Yeah?”

“I’d like to see you sometime in the future.  _ Outside _ of therapy.”

This was a nice offer, John hasn’t gotten one of these in awhile. And it was..it was nice.

“Sure.. When and where?”

“The park? At,” It takes a but for him to figure out a time. “Saturday 2PM?”

“Yeah, yeah sure. I’ll see you then.”

Rambo nods, and so the both of them head their separate ways. He wasn’t sure what to expect from his offer, so he was a bit nervous for it. He wasn’t sure why, as it was only a day in the park with a friend. Eventually the veteran shrugs it off, unlocking the door to his home, entering.

He closes the door behind him, locking it in the process. He felt tired, quite dirty too. And so he elects to take a shower. After he finishes, he slips on some shorts and a gray tank top, and makes his way to bed.

John couldn’t help but wonder if this whole therapy thing would work the way he said it would. It all seemed so.. so pointless. It never made John any happier, but rather more sad..and more miserable. 

He shuts his heavy eyes, drifting to sleep. Maybe the veteran can have some good dreams tonight.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

_ “Are you upset with me, Johnny?” _

_ He is, he’s really upset. There is so much Rambo wants to say in this moment, so much anger, so much emotion, yet he decides to say nothing. He feels it’s not his place. So instead, he begins to sniffle. Shaking his head, insisting that he was fine. But only Sam could tell otherwise. _

_ “If you decided otherwise you would’ve gone back to jail.” _

_ That’s true. And Rambo only wished that he could do anything else to help his situation, but it seemed like this was the only option. This was awful, Rambo hated therapy and Sam knew that. The first time Sam had brought it up Rambo definitely wasn’t slow to shut it down. From that moment on, Sam kinda knew that Rambo would do anything but go to therapy. But now it seems the veteran didn’t have a choice.  _

_ No eye contact is being made with Sam, not because he’s upset at the therapy idea, he just wasn’t sure if he could even look him in the eye at this point. _

_ “I see.” _

_ His eyes are approaching a bright red, he can’t breathe through his nose at the moment, and he hated it. He’s never reacted like this before. It was foreign, and he already knew he didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all. _

_ “Rambo, are you gonna be okay,” There’s a short pause, with Sam not being sure if he should finish this question. “Are you going to be okay without me?” _

_ “What does that mean?” _

_ The veteran asks, his face was displaying more emotion than he was used to. He was scared, he didn’t know what to do in this domestic life he told Sam he’d return to. He didn’t want to have to do anything on his own. _

_ “I’m still going to pay for everything you need to stay alive,” The two of them locked eyes with each other, with Rambo wanting nothing more but for Sam to finish this statement. “But you’ll be living on your own starting tomorrow.” _

_ He really did have to do this alone, and it stung so much. Did Sam not want him anymore? John hoped that wasn’t the case, because if it was, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. If Sam was abandoning him like John thought he was, he wouldn’t get through this. _

_ “Why do I have to do this by myself?” _

_ “What do you mean, Johnny?”  _

_ Sam’s puzzled by this. What did he mean? Did he want to live with him or something? He’d be more than happy to if he didn’t have anything that may do anything to John. _

_ “Why’re you abandoning me?” _

_ Sam’s shocked to hear John ask this, almost heartbroken. Did Johnny really feel as though he wanted nothing to do with him? _

_ “I’m not abandoning you, John,” Soon enough, his breath was shaky too. He didn’t feel like he was going to cry, he was just.. hurt. “What made you think I was abandoning you?” _

_ “It’s because you..,” What was it? Did John even have the words for it? He wasn’t exactly sure how to explain it to him. Or perhaps, maybe he did. “You said I had to do this by myself.” _

_ “Live on your own, yes. So it’s easier for you. But I’ll never abandon you, Johnny. I promised you that.” _

_ He knew that. He knew that Sam deeply cared for him, it was just.. _

_ “I don’t like being alone.” _

_ Right..Sam knew this. He knew that. Only he wasn’t sure what to do, other than assist him for the night. _

_ “I’ll stay with you for the night, is that okay?” _

_ That sounded good, only because he wouldn’t be alone for awhile. He wasn’t sure for how long, and he could only wish he could stay for longer than he had intended. It was going to feel lonely the minute Sam walked out of his home, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. _

_ “Okay.” _

_ That’s all John could say. In a tone that made it seem like he didn’t want him to say. And that’s not what he wanted at all. He just wished..he could stay longer. _

  
  


It had only been a day since Rambo agreed to spend some time with his new companion. And he’s already trying to decide if he wants to go  _ that  _ badly. He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. Eventually deciding that he should go today, as he had already told Dutch that he’d be there.

_ ‘1:42’ _

It was still cold outside, lately it’s been threatening to snow. Rambo kinda hoped that on this particular day it’d be a little warm outside. Anything that wasn’t below freezing was fine for him. But apparently, a coat and heavy clothing is what he had to wear today.

Before stepping out of the door, Rambo stops. For a reason he couldn’t explain, he just stopped. He started chewing on his bottom lip, not sure why he was so reluctant to go.

‘You’ll be alright.’, Is what the veteran whispers to himself. He can’t get a grip and what he’s so worried about. Deciding to ignore it, he walks out the door. Coat on over the tank top he wore the previous night, and his shorts are replaced by heavy sweatpants.

It’s cold, it’s  _ really  _ cold. Nothing John wasn’t used to, but he may as well take advantage of the comfort while it was there.

There’s almost nobody at this park, nothing surprising given the fact that it was really cold outside, perhaps colder than it was yesterday. Rambo huffs, sitting down on a bench placed behind a slide. The bench is really cold, wet as well. John wasn’t sure why it was wet, it didn’t rain overnight. Or maybe it did, and that’s why John was able to sleep at all last night.

John didn’t know what time it was, or how long he had been sitting there. But it wasn’t long, as he saw Dutch approaching the park not too long after he had sat down. Dutch waves at John, noticing his emotionless expression. It wasn’t new to Alan at all, it was pretty clear that John was not the best at expressing how he felt, but this felt different, it felt really different.

It felt like..masked sadness. John had every reason to be sad, Alan wasn’t going to blame him for it. Though, it was still hard to watch. The pain of others is something Dutch couldn’t stomach, something about it just urged him to reach out and help them only if they allowed him to. He can’t really shrug it off, but he’ll ask about it eventually.

He sits next to the shorter veteran, exchanging a soft smile with him.

“It’s good to see you, John.”

“Good to see you too.”

There was an attempt to smile, why wouldn’t he? He was happy to see Dutch. But he wasn’t  _ happy _ . It seemed as though Dutch could see right through it, because when he seated himself next to his shorter friend, he had an urge to ask him what was wrong.

“What’s wrong, my friend?”

As if Rambo knew the answer, but at this point he didn’t know. There was always  _ something  _ bothering Rambo. Yet he could never find the right words for it, because he had no clue what it was.

“Nothing. I just don’t sleep a whole lot.”

John replied. Only making the taller man chuckle. He gets himself comfortable on the bench that could now barely hold the two of them.

“Tell me about your friends, John,” The sudden request to remember what his friends were like surprised John. He wasn’t ready for that question. Despite his reluctance, he allowed Dutch to finish his question. “What are they like?”

A sigh was all he could muster for a few seconds, before trying his best to explain what life was like before..all of this.

“Well, they’re all…most of them are dead. But they were good people,” Dutch seems to be taken aback, perhaps Rambo and himself weren’t much different. “When they were alive, we’d have each other’s back. I almost..had a reason to live.”

“ _ Had  _ a reason,” Dutch’s eyebrow arches up, was there anything else that might have happened to the male? “Did something go wrong before them?”

Another sigh made it’s way past the veteran’s lips. A trail of his breath could be seen escaping out into the air.

“I guess I was just lonely? I’m not..,” The veteran was trailing into his thoughts again, the only thing keeping him from diving too deep was the cold air brushing up against his face. “things were hard when I was really young, so I never really..had much of anyone. I almost died one night too.”

Dutch nods, clinging on to the fact that this was probably the most open Rambo has ever been with him. And it was nice, it was good that he felt comfortable enough to let all this out. Yet Rambo couldn’t understand why he was doing it, maybe he really  _ did  _ need somebody in his life.

“You tried taking your life?”

“No, should have. My father almost killed me though. He was an  _ awful  _ man, I don’t regret doing what I did to him.” John replies, only to receive a smirk from the broader Austrian.

“Did you kill him?”

No, but he really should have.

“Almost,” John huffs, before realizing he had changed the subject without realizing it. Maybe he really  _ did  _ need to vent. “I’m sorry, that had nothing to do with my friends.”

“It did, actually,” Alan insists. “Growing up I could tell you and your parents never had much of a relationship. I feel it made you feel lonely, perhaps even  _ unwanted _ . Your friends were an outlet to the connection you once needed as a child. Am I correct?” 

This guy actually knew what he was talking about?  _ He  _ might as well just become the counselor they were forced to see every week.

“Well, actually. My mother died when I was really young. So I guess I can’t say I never _could _have had a connection with her, I never knew her.”

“I’m sorry.” Is what Alan replies, losing people is never easy. The both of them could tell anybody that. Rambo shrugs, trying his best to keep the past where it should be.

“They were family,” Rambo felt awful again, this is why he never enjoyed talking about his friends. His dead ones at that. “They’re gone now, though.”

The mood of the park seemed to have become a lot more sad than the both of them had it to be. Rambo didn’t mean to do that, this was exactly why Rambo felt awful after venting. It helped, until everyone around him felt as miserable as he did.

“I’m sorry.”

Though, Dutch didn’t mind it. He could help but feel bad for the shorter male, not only did he have a rough childhood, but the people he could once call family were gone now. Maybe he still had Sam but..maybe it wasn’t the Sam? Maybe Sam was just the father John never got to have.

Dutch repositions himself, so that he’s facing Rambo. For whatever reason, this made him feel as though he was talking to someone heart-to-heart.

“I didn’t realize that had happened to you, and I’m sorry it did,” Alan sighs, this was way more depressing than they thought this was going to be. “You see, I need you to realize that..that you’re not alone. People want to help, John.  _ I  _ want to help. My friends are dead too, and it hurts..”

They  _ weren _ ’t as different as they thought they were, which should not have been surprising to the both of them, they were soldiers. But it was. Dutch had no problem opening up to people, he might look intimidating because of his size, but he was approachable. While John seemed like he wanted everyone to leave him alone, but that’s not what he wanted at all. He wanted somebody to help him, yet at the same time he wanted somebody to care. He couldn’t have either of those, and so he gave up without even realizing that he did.

“Sorry, Alan. I didn’t..you just seemed,” He didn’t have words for it, yet Alan did.

“Okay? Believe it or not, it’s hard to sleep at night because of the things I’ve been through. I’m not  _ okay _ . I want to be, I want to be okay so badly. But...but I couldn’t save them.”

Poor Alan, John didn’t realize the guilt of his friends dying kept him up at night. It did the same thing to him too.. He wants to feel better so badly, and he could understand that. Yet neither of them knew what to do.

“I’m sorry for assuming that you were fine. I guess..I guess there’s more than what meets the eye sometimes.”

“That’s right.” Alan smiles. And it’s so strange, how much this man was hurt on this inside and he still manages to light up a room… John couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“By the way, do you still have anybody you can speak to?”

“Two people, one keeps me alive in this domestic life.”

John replies.

“Can I meet him, sometime?”

“Sure, I’m sure he’d like you. You’re more interesting than I am.”

Which only makes Dutch chuckle, nodding at the complement.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. But thank you.”

Dutch smiles, gaining a soft smile back from John.

“Sure,” John nods, it was beginning to get a little dark as the two of them continued to talk. It was then that they decided to part ways. “It was interesting getting to know more about you. Thanks, Alan.”

“For what?” Alan questions, his eyebrow raised.

“Letting me..talk.”

Which only made Alan smile a bit more widely than before, he was making progress on this journey to help Rambo recover.

“Of course, I’m glad I got to know more about you too. I’m glad you feel safe.”

Alan nods, with John smiling in return. The two of them head their separate ways, but before they can’t see each other. Alan felt the urge to ask Rambo an important question, to him again.

“You’re taking your medication.”

John smirks, he probably should have expected this. And is oddly not surprised that he remembered. Though, he’s glad he took his advice.

“Yeah.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been awhile, school kinda does that. It was kinda fun to update this after not doing so for so long.

_ Deeply concerned for him, Sam began to run his fingers through Rambo’s hair. Hoping that it’d be an effective way to calm him down. He’d been through a lot tonight, Sam could only imagine what was going through his mind as tears were rushing down the veteran’s face. He wasn’t okay, and Sam wasn’t sure what to do. _

_ “How are you feeling, Johnny?” _

_ “I’m cold.” He’s so cold, his stomach hurts, he can’t think, he doesn’t feel good. When has he ever felt good? When was he not suffering? When was he? He couldn’t remember. _

_ “Do you need me to turn on the heat?” _

_ “No,” Replies Rambo, he was cold. But maybe he liked it that way, did he? He wasn’t sure. _

_ “Here.” _

_ Despite the smaller veteran’s answer, Sam decides to unzip his parka. Wrapping it around the shorter male until he felt he was warm enough. _

_ John wasn’t gonna lie, maybe the warmth of his sleeping bag did feel great. It felt amazing, he didn’t want it to end. He always wanted to feel like this. Why couldn’t he? Why was he never allowed to? _

_ “Something’s on your mind.” _

_ Trautman could tell, he seemed to always be able to tell if something was bothering the veteran. Even if he wasn’t looking at him. He puts John’s bag somewhere in his closet. Before turning to John. _

_ “So, what is it?” _

_ John was never good at this, why’d he have to ask him that? It’s not like he really understood what it was. For the most part, he just wanted help. Yet, he couldn’t get help. Why was that? Nobody wanted to. John felt like he could understand that reasoning to some extent. Who wanted to help somebody as fucked up, and lost, and confused as he was. _

_ “I dunno.” _

_ Because he really wasn’t sure how to say it, how? Could he tell Sam? Did Sam even care? The vet was clearly bothered by something, he couldn’t force it out of him that easily. Though it didn’t stop Sam from trying. _

_ “I think you’re more than just tired.” _

_ Was that so? Was he more than just tired? How could Sam tell? Sam seemed to be the only person who could get a general understanding of John’s mood. _

_ “Yeah?, Rambo questions, wiping dry tears off of his face. “What do you think I am then, insane?” _

_ Everyone seemed to think that these days, he couldn’t understand why almost everyone around him seemed to think that. They drew first blood, not him. _

_ “Johnny, no. Nobody thinks you’re insane.” _

_ Rambo silently scoffs, of course they did. If that was the case, why did he need therapy? Why was he harassed in hope? A repeat of everything that had happened in Hope was unfolding in this town too so.. didn’t that mean something? _

_ “I’m just tired. I’ll get some rest.” _

_ Rambo states. Maybe he was tired, he wasn’t sure anymore. _

Rambo walks into the building, though he doesn’t have the intent on attending therapy today he was still curious as to when they’d let him stop going. Not much has changed since his last sessions. It always ends with him wishing that he was home alone, isolating himself from the world around him. What a wonderful place his extremely dark room was.

A session had already started, and the only other thing that was off to the vet was the fact that he didn’t see Alan. Where was he? John thought to himself, maybe he finally deciding this wasn’t the best place for his mental state either.

John approaches the person at the front desk, they wave at him. Greeting him with a smile Rambo wasn’t sure was genuine or not.

“How are you today, John?”

John only shrugs in reply to that, slipping a hand into the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Alright.”

Barely any expression shown on his face, the veteran places his hand on the back of his neck. Waiting for the small talk to be over.

“Not attending today’s session?”

The attendant questions, only receiving on awkward nod from Rambo. 

“No. I wanted to ask you something about therapy, actually.” John sighs, now both hands in his pockets. “Is there any chance at all I could just..stop coming?”

“Well, because of your situation. We have you on a progress report. And I’m afraid you can’t stop attending until we see a change in your mental health.”

The attendant nods. Rambo sighed in response, that means he was going to be here for awhile. How the hell are they even going to tell if his mental health had improved? He could fake it, but he could be lying.

“Thanks.”

John nods, returning with the most ingenuine smile he had even given somebody in his life. It may have looked genuine, but Rambo wished for a bus to run over him on the spot. Must be why he’s not getting out anytime soon.

He walks out of the building, doing nothing but standing outside the building until therapy was over for whatever reason. He wasn’t in the mood for any motivational speeches from people who couldn’t relate to John. _ But _he was waiting for something, he didn’t know what for. Maybe he’d find out when therapy ended.

Veterans were making their way out, which must have meant that the session had ended. John nodded at each and every one of them. Who seemed to be giving him a look that read “Must be nice having the ability to break every now and then.” Which wasn’t entirely true. He wasn’t given that option, he just decided not to attend.

John loses interest in the veterans exiting the building, at least until he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turns to see who it was, and is frankly quite relieved to know that it was Alan. Something felt off though, Alan looked different. Despite his warm smile, he could almost _ feel _the change in his demeanor 

Alan looked exhausted, sad even.

“You okay? You’re not looking too good.”

Rambo adds. Alan nods, putting his arm around his shorter friend.

“Yes, I’m okay,” Even if Alan felt that way, he probably wasn’t. “Have you been keeping your end of the promise?”

John had completely forgotten about those damned pills, he sighs. Shaking his head sheepishly.

“No, hard to remember when all I do is sleep.”

Though it was slightly disappointed, Alan shrugged. Supposedly that made sense. If he couldn’t do it on his own, then maybe he just needed someone to do it for him. Perhaps even _ with _him.

“Why don’t you show you where you live? I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

Alan suggests, he had a general idea of where he lived but never an exact location. The two of them begin to start walking in the direction of Rambo’s place. With Rambo seemingly carrying the man on his shoulders.

“Huh? Sure. But why _ now?” _

Alan smiles, subconsciously running his hands through John’s hair. Has he ever considered cutting this?

“You’ll see, promise.”

It sounded ominous, but it didn’t sound like a bad idea. He trusted Alan, he’d never hurt him. Isn’t that what he..kinda promised?

“Okay.”

John agrees. The two veterans make their way to Rambo’s place. They do nothing but stand outside of it for awhile, at least that was what John was doing. But Dutch was only beginning to take a mental picture of the path they took to get here. He nods, turning to smile at Rambo. Indicating that he was on his way.

“Goodnight, John.”

Dutch nods, before walking the opposite direction. John couldn’t help but stare at Dutch as he walked off into the distance, he couldn’t stop thinking about the reason why he wanted John to bring him here. Maybe one of these days he wanted to visit him? John sighs, observing Dutch walk away until he couldn’t see him anymore. He sighs, walking up to the door of his small home.

“Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still ship Arnold and Sylvester, I thought I was over it but I guess not 😭 Also I know this chapter was short, wasn’t too much to add to it but chapter 6 is pretty long?


	6. Dutch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied about this chapter being long y’all 🤪

_ The taste of blood lingering in his mouth strangely started to become less and less unnatural, and it wouldn’t have disturbed Dutch so much if it wasn’t the taste of his own comrade’s blood. As their blood splattered everywhere as soon as bullets made contact with their skins, and onto the face of their leader who was supposed to protect them. Even went as far as to promise their safety, Dutch’ll never make that mistake again. _

_ He’s shaking, scared out of his mind. He isn’t sure what to do. The only other person left was his friend, Dillon. He places his hand over his head, he didn’t care what happened to him. It wouldn’t matter if he died on the battlefield, maybe that was for the best. But what about Dillon? _

_ Dutch’ll get himself killed to make sure nothing ever happens to him, he’s all he’s got left. If he’s killed, Dutch will have nothing. He has no family to go back to.. not after he moved to America against their wishes. _

_ This isn’t good, they’re outnumbered. Severely too. They can’t win, but in a way, it’s too late to retreat? _

_ “C’mon, Dutch. We gotta move.” _

_ Dillon suggests, though he isn’t sure where they’re gonna go. Or how, but he’s willing to try. Worst thing that happens on the field, he dies. _

_ “Dillon, we can’t continue. We’re outnumbered!” _

_ But the dark-skinned soldier was insisting that they move forward. They could continue, could win, maybe if they tried hard enough. _

_ “Come on, man! You’re losin’ yourself,” It was pretty clear that Dutch’s body was going through a lot of things, and nothing good came out of any of them. “We can do this! I know we can.” _

_ What if they couldn’t? They were already severely outnumbered, half of their comrades were dead. And Dutch wasn’t sure what to do. He was supposed to be a leader, he was supposed to take care of his comrades. Why couldn’t he? _

_ “On your feet, we gotta move.” _

_ And so they did, the only two soldiers left on the field moved as quickly as their bodies would allow them too. Narrowly avoiding shots. They made it to another area, staying low as the opposing country continued to fire shots. _

_ Dutch is still shaking, and can barely control it now. He needed to find himself, he needed to control himself… he needed.. _

_ He was fine, he was okay. He just needed to focus on the mission at hand, take out as many as they could. As soon as they couldn’t go on any longer, they would retreat. Or at least try to. _

_ “Help.” _

_ Is all Dutch could seem to whisper in the midst of his meltdown. He didn’t know what would help him, he didn’t know who you help him. He just needed  _ _ help. _

_ “Stay with me, Dutch,” Dillon says as he begins to reload his weapon. He doesn’t like to show it as much as Dutch seemed to display at the moment. But he was really scared too. It seemed as though it was them against the world, how would they compete with that? “I need you.” _

_ Dillon begins to aim while staying low, with Dutch doing the same. Dillon needed him as much as he needed himself. He was going to give this final battle everything he had. _

_ And so they fought, with Dillon covering one side and Dutch covering the other. They seemed to be doing very well for a team that only consisted of only two loving soldiers.  _

_ They figured they had gotten almost all of them, maybe they should retreat? _

_ “Should we go?” _

_ Dillon took a moment to think about it, should they go? There wasn’t a reason to stay. But, maybe there were more. That they could just take out before leaving for good this time. _

_ “Nah.. Just a bit longer, Dutch. Stay with me.” _

_ The soldiers began to move somewhere else, preferably somewhere closer to the opposing team. Dutch begins to shakily sigh, they didn’t get too much closer. Had they had gotten any closer, they probably would have gotten killed. _

_ “I don’t see anyone..” _

_ Maybe they should just go, both of them were way too tired, wounded, and stressed out to deal with this. Best case scenario, the two of them both get discharged. _

_ “Let’s go, Dillon. We did what we could.” _

_ Dillon sighs, standing to look over the area to see if anyone else hadn’t retreated. Though, there wasn’t a single person he could see. _

_ “Yeah.. let’s just-“ _

_ Blood. _

_ Blood had managed to spread out throughout the area, spraying from Dillon’s head, to Dutch’s face, to the floor. Total shock had taken over Dutch’s body, as he watched his only surviving soldier fall to the ground. _

_ This didn’t feel real, this wasn’t happening. Dutch was going to throw up, it was a bad dream. But it wasn’t, this was real, this was happening. The one thing Dutch had feared most, had just occurred. And the taste of his blood only further confirmed it. _

_ This couldn’t be real, this wasn’t fucking real. Dillon was...Dillon was  _ _ dead. _

_ “Dillon..” What has he done? Why didn’t he tell Dillon to stay low? Oh god.. “Dillon!” _

_ He could only hear his voice, and the echo of the gunshot that was still ringing in his mind. There was no point in carrying his body back to safety, he was already dead. But it was the least he could do. Maybe… his family would have wanted something to remember him by. _

** _“Dillon!”_ **

_ He could only shout his name, nothing else. As the shock that filled his body the moment his comrade was shot was still in him. What was he going to do… why weren’t they shooting him? _

_ He carefully puts the body of his dead comrade over his shoulder. Dutch wants to cry, he wants to cry so badly. Yet, he can’t? Why couldn’t he? _

_ And so it’s just Dutch, running out of the battlefield with Dillon over his shoulders. He needed him, Dillon fucking needed him. And he couldn’t protect him… _

_ Finally, he’s out.. him and Dillon are out. And the only thing his body will allow him to do is collapse… _

————————————-

Alan wakes up in a cold sweat, he’s clutching at his chest, and he’s shaking just a little bit. His body begins to calm down, as he realizes that it’s just a dream.. a really realistic one too.

It wasn’t a dream to Alan, it was a flashback. A flashback to the war, memories that he really wished would stay at the back of his mind beginning to resurface.

Alan needs to move, he needed to do  _ something. _ That dream disturbed him in ways he never knew was possible. He missed Dillon… he really missed him.

He began to stand up, making his way to the bathroom to wash his face. Maybe that’ll help wash away awful memories…

He looks at himself in the mirror, his hair was getting a bit longer.. he’d fix that tomorrow. He looked tired, really tired. And it wasn’t because it was four in the morning.

“Go to bed, go to bed, go to bed.”

Alan repeated to himself, making his way back to his bedroom. He began to lie down, electing to just stare at the ceiling until he’d eventually go back to sleep.

Alan’s lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The dream he had just had didn’t hit him until he allowed it to fully take over his thoughts. He was just lying there, with his mouth open in disbelief.

The realization, that he had never had actual time to grieve over the death of Dillon. And maybe that was why he had that dream in the first place.

“Oh my god..”

His hand was placed over his mouth, tears beginning to well in his eyes before they proceeded to stream down his face.

Dutch turns around, placing his face in his pillow. Silently crying, allowing himself to just.. let it go. Was this the thing that had been eating him up since he had moved to this town? The death of Dillon? If so, he was just glad that he could finally let it go..

So that he could be free, and in a way, Dillon could be too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to shine some light on Dutch! The main focus is supposed to be Rambo but I feel as though Dutch should get some time in the spotlight too.
> 
> The idea of this fic was to have a scenario where John and Alan (Sly and Arnold) recover together. And I know Dutch has kind of been hiding some of his trauma. But I feel as though it’s because he doesn’t want it to resurface number one, and John needs someone to cling onto when it gets to be too much.
> 
> That’s it, hope you enjoyed some character interpretation 🥺


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually supposed to be something completely different but I decided against it because I felt as though it wouldn’t make sense 💀 so instead I just made this

His bed wasn’t that comfortable, and John was cold again. But that didn’t seem to stop him from trying to find comfort in his discomfort. It’s all he’s ever known how to do, might as well make use of it in his domestic life too.

John was still very depressed, nothing’s happened, nothing’s changed. No matter what he does, nothing was helping. He could go to therapy, take pills, live a normal life, but it couldn’t undo everything that had happened. Maybe a normal, domestic life wasn’t for him.

No, he wanted a quiet life. Just him, isolated from the rest of the world. He wouldn’t be harrassed anymore, he couldn’t be betrayed by anyone, nothing around him would bring him back to the brutal days of ‘Nam. It’d be only him.. perhaps it was meant to be that way.

Silence..the type of tranquility John gets when he lays in bed with his eyes closed. 

The only moment when her could get that kind of tranquility, but the moment he had seemed to be getting comfortable, a knock was heard from the door.

John groans, he was going to get up in a little bit anyway. But he really didn’t  _ want  _ to socially interact today. He just wanted to be alone today.

Opening the door, John decides to stick head out of the door to see who it was. And though, he wasn’t really in the mood to see anyone, maybe Alan wasn’t so bad.

“Alan?”

John opens the door wider in case Alan wanted to come in. Now that John had thought about it, aside from Sam, Alan was the  _ only  _ other person who had been in this house. The only other person he trusted.

“Mind if I come in?”

John backed up a little bit, making room for Alan to come in if he wanted to.

“No, no. Come in.”

John opened the door a little bit wider for Alan to come in, Alan began to make his way inside. Removing his heavy jacket, but he wasn’t sure where to put it.

“Here.”

John reaches his arm out, grabbing Alan’s arm and slinging it over his shoulder. He wasn’t exactly sure where to put it either, so he slung it over the chair in the kitchen. John takes a deep breath in, letting it out as his eyes met Alan. Who had appeared to be looking around the house.

It was quite empty. Nothing really filled the house except maybe furniture. And even then, John’s house looked really empty. Although, there was one picture that John had displayed in his living room. A pic of John and his friends.

Seeing John smile was really refreshing to Alan, nowadays it’s so rare. He wondered if John remembered that last time he genuinely smiled, because from the time he’s met him, he’s never seen a genuine smile from him. And that was probably going to be for awhile.

“You can keep the picture if you want,” The sound of John’s voice startled Alan, he had been so quiet he had forgotten he was in the same room. “It does no good for me anyways.”

John claimed, but he wondered. Should he let Alan keep it? Picked up the photo from the table, and began observing it a little more. It’s never until John picks up this photo that he realizes how much he misses his friends. He lets out a heavy sigh, before setting the photo down. Nothing ever got easier for him.

“I think you should keep it.”

Dutch suggested as John began to approach him. John sat next to him, beginning to play with his shirt.

“Why’d you come?”

He must have wanted something, anytime anyone other than the people he was close to came to see him, they wanted something. So it wouldn’t be a surprise to John.

“To check on you.”

That was a first. A first to hear anyone else but Sam tell him that. He appreciated it..because it wasn’t everyday that he got to hear that.

“..Thanks.”

John nodded, Alan began to stand, with John beginning to stand with him. Alan began to observe the Length of John’s hair. He should consider cutting it, if not now, soon.

“Do you want anything to drink? All I’ve got is..water.”

John states, Alan shakes his head. Further observing John’s home. He only hoped that John was eating enough, or at all.

“No, I’m okay.”

Reassured Alan, if John didn’t have to cater to anyone, that meant he was just going to go back to his room. John left the living room, going back to his room. Alan wasn’t sure what else he could do, and so he followed him inside.

The two of them had entered the room, and Alan continued to observe. He wasn’t sure  _ why  _ he liked to observe things. Well, he didn’t like to observe thing. It was more of a skill he had. And he could only hope John at wasn’t  _ uncomfortable _ .

“It’s clean.”

Alan nods, but it wasn’t just clean. It was just..empty. Only a bed, and the desk next to it occupied space. There was no need for anything else, John never had the energy for anything else.

“It’s never dirty.”

It would probably mess with John if anything else was dirty or out of place. So, he doesn’t do anything with this room, he leaves it alone.

Alan nods, the room may have been empty, yet for some reason it felt comfortable? Maybe simplicity was a good thing in their state.

“You’ve been taking care of yourself?

Alan wonders, sitting down next to John. He was inconveniently sitting next to John’s small desk, it had his medication on it, and Alan hated doing this but he needed to be sure John was doing his part on this road to recovery.

“I’m trying to.”

John lies down again, he isn’t tired though. Wasn’t like he could fall asleep with company anyway. 

“I’ll be back.”

Alan states, with not much context behind it. He starts for the kitchen, John didn’t show any form of confusion to that statement and he wasn’t going to question it either. 

Alan wasn’t gone for long anyway, all he had gotten was a glass of water. John continues to stare at Alan, but he doesn’t make any comment on it.

“Sit up.”

“Why?” Without much confrontation John sits up with his legs crossed. He isn’t nervous until the medication on his desk enter the hands of Alan. He wasn’t keen on taking them, Alan could tell. John never really saw the  _ point  _ in taking them.

“Here.”

A pill that Alan had placed in his hand was now in John’s. All John could do was put it on the desk, acting as though it was a foreign object. And all Alan could do was sigh, it wasn’t like he could force feed it to him, but he also wasn’t just gonna not let him take it. Alan takes it in his hands again, keeping it away from John, for now.

“John, please. Just take this one,” Alan please, as he opens his hand. Allowing John to take it when he was ready. Even though John took maybe four of these, these were still so new to him.  _ Too new _ . “You’ll be okay, I promise.”

John didn’t know that, but maybe.. Alan did. John lets out another long sigh  _ just one.  _ He takes the pill, and without much of a second thought swallowed it.

John wasn’t expecting much to happen afterwards, nothing really did happen afterwards, all John felt like doing was lying down again.

“See? You’re okay.”

“I guess so.” Is what John had responded in return. He sighs, reaching for the glass of water placed at the side of his desk. Taking a sip to wash the pill all the way down.

The two sat in silence, they weren’t exactly trying to ignore each other but they also weren’t sure what they could say. It was almost as though they had ran out of things to say? Or had run out of things they wanted to say. 

“It’s a quiet town” Dutch had remarked, and it really was a quiet town. “It’s really quiet.”

“Not a lot  _ happen _ s here, I think it should stay that way.”

Dutch silently agreed, that’s why he came to this town in the first place. He just wants to wants to recover in peace.

“But, I wish it was quieter.” The two of them sit up at John’s statement, a pleading tone was lingering somewhere in his voice. He’s desperate, and just wants to live a quiet life. “I’m not sure if I belong here, I probably don’t.”

Instead of trying to convince John that this was where he belongs, that this town is the only thing left for him. Alan listens, and couldn’t help but wonder…

“What makes you say that?”

John could taste bitterness linger in his mouth, only bitterness.

“I’m alone, Alan. It’s always been that way. Whether I like it or not, it’s always gonna  _ be  _ that way.” Alan drew a silent breath back, what John had been sharing with him shouldn’t have made Alan feel upset, but..it did?

“Because, who wants to deal with me? Nobody. That’s why everyone tries to get rid of me. I’m just a broken man, Alan. That’s all I am to people.”

And the bitter taste in his mouth didn’t go away either, it was  _ still  _ there. Alan sighed, sitting next to John who was already lying down. Saying and doing nothing after his rant. 

Alan had pushed himself further up onto John’s bed, resting his head on the wall against the bed. Alan begins to look up at the ceiling, while John continued to lie down next to Alan.

“That’s not all you are.  _ To me _ , that’s not all you are.”

“Then what am I to you?”

That was such a simple question, what really was John to Alan? Alan wasn’t sure, he was important to Alan, but that wasn’t the word Alan was looking for. It’s..deeper than that.

“I don’t know, John. You’re just someone I care about.”

Someone that he cared about.. it was nice to hear that. He can’t remember the last time anyone has ever said that to him. If..anyone’s ever told John that before. But, he wanted to hear that more..

“I hope I’m..not a burden to you.”

Alan softly smiles as he hops off of John’s bed, he lets out a long sigh before replying.

“You aren’t. You’ve never been.” He couldn’t be a burden to him, he never liked to think of anyone like that. They were just two soldiers, who have a similar story who just  _ need _ support from each other. “I’ll leave, if you want me to.”

Quite frankly, John doesn’t want him to leave. At least not now. John wanted him…  _ here.  _ He wanted someone here with him.

“Alan, could you..stay here? I don’t wanna be alone, right now.”

It was a simple favor, and though Alan had no problem staying here with him, John still felt bad for asking. He could endure the feeling of having nobody any other night. But, tonight was..different?

“I have another room.”

“Sure, I’ll stay.” Alan replied. John was now left with some sense of security. A feeling he hadn't felt in so long, he hasn’t felt like this for  _ so  _ long.

“Sorry for..making you stay.”

Alan lets out a small laugh, before reassuring John that everything was fine. He thought that this place was kinda growing on him.. despite how empty it seemed to be.

“You’re okay, John. I think I’m starting to like this place.”

At least, Alan seemed to be enjoying himself. Soon, Alan had grown tired. And decided that getting some sleep wasn’t a terrible idea. He makes his way to the extra room, but before he goes to bed. He decides to check on John, one more time.

“Goodnight, John.”

Alan says, before closing the door behind him.

“Goodnight.”

John wasn’t sure if he could hear him, and it probably doesn’t matter that much anyway.

John sits at the corner of his bed for about an hour, thinking about things that happened to him that he wishes he could forget, things that he wants, but can’t have. It wasn’t like he was  _ trying  _ to have these thoughts anyway, he just allowed these thoughts to come and go as they pleased.

He hasn’t seen Trautman in awhile.. John missed him. John missed him a lot. He never felt confused or lost when he was around. But, now that he seemingly disappeared, John wasn’t sure.. what to do.

John feels like he let him down, and the coil turning in his stomach made him feel worse. The thought of letting down the only person that had ever promised to keep him safe did not sit with John well.

John gets out of bed, for whatever reason, sleeping is proving to be difficult. He takes a deep breath in as he opens the door to the guest room, to meet Alan sleeping peacefully. Alan looked so at peace, John wished to feel like that..

He enters the room, deciding not to close the door behind him, as he didn’t want to wake Alan up. After a little while, John decides to lie down on the floor next to the mattress Alan was sleeping on.

It felt real safe in here.. John wasn’t alone this time.. and maybe now he knows that. It’s hard for John to feel like people genuinely care for him, like people don’t just take care of him because they pity him.

This was all John needs right now, John only wishes for the people he trusts to stay close to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made Rambo..so soft. I’m wondering if this is allowed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, I’m really almost done with this. Honestly, I’m considering adding a few more chapters to better develop and establish John and Alan’s relationship. I might just end up doing that, I will actually 🙈

The sun was just barely showing through the blinds, and Alan had found himself awake before. He had no issues sleeping the night before, maybe he had slept a bit easier the previous night than he has in awhile. But, he just can’t seem to sleep for long periods of time. And it’s been an issue for him for awhile, he doesn’t even bother to try and go back to sleep. Because he tries, and it just doesn’t work.

There wasn’t a clock in this room, so there was no way of telling what time it was. But, he could tell he had woken at least before 8am. He wasn’t sure when he should get up and leave, nobody else was up, and it was cold outside. But, maybe leaving was better than sitting in bed, unable to fall asleep.

Alan climbs out of bed, trying not to wake John up. Until he realizes John was asleep on the floor next to him. He never realized John sleeping on the floor when he had woken up a few minutes ago, so it was slightly startling to Alan. But, he didn’t put much more thought behind it. Maybe not more than he just didn’t want to be alone.

“John?”

Alan decides to wake him up, so that it isn’t all that much of a surprise that Alan wasn’t in the same room anymore. John wasn’t that hard to wake up, which was good to know in situations where Alan was going to need to get him up. John turned to face Alan, barely awake. 

“Hmm.”

John groggily responds, he sits up, and wasn’t too keen on being woken up this early, yet acted like it didn’t bother him.

“I’m going home, are you gonna be alright?”

John began to lie back down, he wasn’t sure how to feel about Alan leaving. Especially when nobody else was awake, but he supposed that he couldn’t stay here forever.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be alright.”

Alan nods, unaware of John’s silent disapproval. Alan gives another sigh, a sad sigh. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to go yet, but it was probably for the best.

Alan had left the house, and for the first time in a couple hours the entire house felt empty. John  _ felt  _ empty. Maybe he should go back to sleep, he was probably just.. _ tired. _

So, that’s what John does. He begins to close his eyes, allowing himself to fall back asleep.

A couple hours had past, and John felt as though it was probably time to wake up again.

He stood back up to stretch, beginning to at least get something started. But that was the thing, what was there  _ to  _ start? John doesn’t have much of a life outside of therapy, and he doesn’t want to have to put himself out there. So, maybe he’ll just spend today by himself again. John sits down in his kitchen, all his lights are off again. The few moments John spends alone in the kitchen are uneventful, and John liked it better when things were like that. It was boring, compared to the life he used to live. But, at least sitting in his kitchen silently wasn’t as stress-inducing as trying to keep his comrades alive.

There’s a sudden knock at John’s door, and John turns almost immediately after hearing the knock at his door, he starts at the door, hoping that it was Alan again. But, instead he was greeted with..someone he never expected to see again.

“Sir?”

Trautman was standing at the door, observing John to make sure he was taking care of himself. And it seemed that he had been fine, but John always looked  _ ‘fine’.  _ And it worried Sam more than it should.

“How are you feeling, Johnny?”

John wasn’t sure how to respond, could he even respond? He was doing okay, but it took a while before John could even feel like he was doing ‘okay’.

“Alright.” 

It was hard to maintain eye contact with Sam, it wasn’t like John didn’t want him here. 

He missed him..

He just wasn’t ready to see him? Not yet at least, and he couldn’t get a grasp at why he felt that way. He trusted Sam with his life and now he was struggling to look at him?

“Can I come in?”

John zoned out for a little bit, before realizing that Truatman was still at his door. John gulps, before opening the door a bit wider. So that Sam could make his way inside.

“Yeah, please. Come in.”

Sam had started to walk into the house, and that’s when John had cleared his throat. Slipping his hand into the pocket of his sweatpants, John closes the door.

Trautman had already began observing the house, John couldn’t tell what he thought about it. Instead of trying to find out, John sits down. And allows Trautman to continue to look around.

“You left it exactly as I bought it.”

That was Trautman’s initial thought from the start, it didn’t bother him at all. It was just all he could tell apart from… anything else.

“I don’t have much of anything, sir.”

John responds, Trautman began to observe John with the corner of his eye. He looked the same, the same as always. And he wonders if he’s made any progress in terms of his recovery.

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir’ anymore, John. You’re better off just calling me Sam.” Trautman says as he sighs. “It’s better that way, anyway.”

“Sure. I’m sorry, Sam.”

Even then, John had almost called him ‘sir’ again. And Trautman had heard it too, yet decided it wasn’t worth pointing out.

“Rambo,” That name seemed so  _ fresh _ , he hasn’t heard anyone call him by his last name for too long. And he isn’t sure if he wants that anymore… “We’ve missed you, Johnny.”

“I guess I..miss you too.”

John nods, deciding not to comment on ‘we’. Because he was well-aware of who ‘we’ was.

“You look a lot better compared to the last time I saw you.”

Trautman remarks, a lot better than the last time. But that might be because John wasn’t emotionally in the best place. He still isn’t, but Trautman will take any progress he can get.

“You think so?”

John wonders, even though he knows nothing has really changed. Maybe, John did make progress. And it’s flying right past him

“Yeah, maybe your recovery is doing better than we thought.”

Better than  _ he  _ thought.

Checking on John seemed to be refreshing, but maybe it was time to tell John what his next moves were.

“Anyway, I came to tell you that..I’m leaving, again.”

John nodded out of respect, and assumed it was an indirect way for Trautman to tell John that he needed his help. So, he asked the question. Before Trautman needed to elaborate.

“Do I need to come with you too?”

_ Sam.  _ John stood up, just so that he could level with Trautman. And what Trautman had came for was the exact opposite from what John expected.

“No, don’t. I need you to stay here, I need you to recover.” Then, what’d he come for? “Your recovery is important.”

John wasn’t really sure how to respond, or if he could respond at all. All John could do was sit there, deep in thought. Maybe, Alan was right. People actually do care. But why waste energy on him?

“I know you feel like you belong out there, I know you feel like you stick out like a sore thumb here. But,” Trautman pauses “I can’t send you back out there. Not after what happened. I can’t do that to you, John. I’m sorry.”

All John can do is nod, it’s not that he wanted to go back out there. But, did he really belong here? In this town? Not after hope..

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m alright.”

He just wasn’t sure what this meant, even if Trautman had explicitly stated it. Does this mean he’s  _ useless _ to Trautman now? And this was just a way of getting rid of him easily?

“I’ll leave if you need me to,” John doesn’t need him to leave, he doesn’t want him to. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Sam,” As Trautman starts for the door, he stops. To at least hear what John had to say. John takes a deep breath, before finishing what he started. “Can you stay for awhile?”

Trautman stops for awhile, glancing at the doorknob, before glancing back at John. Trautman began to let go

of the doorknob, nodding in John’s direction.

“For a couple minutes longer, yes.”

John nods, glad that he was able to make Sam for a little bit.

“I don’t need you for that long, I just wanna ask you something.”

Sam nods, crossing his arms. It might be interesting to see what John had to say to him, after all, he doesn’t always get to hear exactly what John is thinking.

“Please, come back.”

It was a plea that Sam didn’t expect, he expected the opposite, actually. He feels he’s partially responsible for the way John is now. He’s not all that sure he can keep that promise. But if that’s what John needs, he’ll do it.

“I’ll be back before you know it, I promise.”

He promised, and John really needed him to keep his promise.

Sam had said all his goodbyes, before walking out the door. Leaving John feeling anxious, because he may never  _ be  _ back.

If he doesn’t come back, John will never know why. Either Trautman had died, or he had forgotten about John.

All John could do was hope that Sam would be okay, because he isn’t sure what he’d do if that wasn’t the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also now I’m gonna work on a hopefully long oneshot.... I thought it was relevant.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Johnny may or may not be falling in love with Alan I dunno...

Maybe, spending a little bit of time outside may not be such a bad idea. It was still cold outside, but it wasn’t anything John hadn’t gotten used to by now. John closes this door behind him, slipping into his jacket. He begins to take a deep breath, this would be the first time in awhile that he decides to step outside willingly. Maybe this might help him feel… better mentally.

John isn’t too familiar with this town though, a bit ironic. Considering that he’s been here for almost a month. But, it’s heavily linked to the fact that John is just used to being by himself. Which is good in the battlefield, but John  _ couldn’t  _ be there anymore.

He decides to start walking to the park, it’s where Alan decided to meet him. Making it the only place John really ever knew. So the idea of it didn’t sound bad, perhaps it’s a little bit refreshing.

John arrives at the park, taking note of how  _ nobody  _ was here. He didn’t blame anyone for it, it was still cold outside. Though, it was beginning to warm up just a little bit.

John takes a seat on a bench, the same bench he sat on the day Alan wanted to see him outside of therapy. John remembers it… he remembers the day actually being good. For the first time in as long as John could recall, he had a good day.

Something about it… he didn’t want it to end. At least not when he had nothing else to look forward to. The bench was uncomfortably cold, as to be expected. John, however, didn’t mind the fact that the cold metal was somehow seeping through his jeans. He begins to stare at the playground in front of him, slides, monkey bars, almost everything was covered with white. And John felt like an outsider looking in. For a reason he couldn’t quite grasp.

He continues to sit in the park alone, in his thoughts. He seemed to do this a lot. By now, he’s probably used to his thoughts. 

It appears that he’s by himself, not until he feels a large, yet vaguely familiar hand on his shoulder. Instead of panicking, John looks up. Just to see who it is.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you for awhile.” Alan remarked. John began to stare at him, he didn’t mean to. He just wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

A puzzled look crept onto John’s face, he let it go after a few seconds, though.

“Didn’t expect to see you ‘til tonight, actually.” Alan added. John tilts his head in response, slighting furrowing his brows. As the idea of going  _ back  _ made him feel sick to his stomach.

“Tonight? Tonight…” John tried to act like he wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but he knew  _ damn  _ well what Alan was referring to, “I didn’t know we still had to go to that.”

“I don’t know either, figured they make you go for a reason,” Alan suggested, “ _ You  _ sound like you weren’t going to attend, though.” 

Alan wasn’t sure if he cared about John not attending anymore, it seemed this wasn’t doing anything for John, it was similar to beating a dead horse.

“I wasn’t going to,” John admitted. Alan couldn’t really do anything other than shrug. This was bound to happen  _ eventually,  _ “I’m not gonna do it anymore.”

“I expected that,” Alan responds, he didn’t have too long before he didn’t have to attend either, at least he was actually  _ allowed  _ to stop, “Why do you feel this way about it? You always tell me that you hate being there, but you don’t tell me why.” 

John was the first to break eye contact, he wasn’t good at this at all. He knew why, but would his reasoning even be worth it?

“Feel what way?” John asked, as though he didn’t know what Alan was talking about. Or maybe his mind just wasn’t in the right place.

“Therapy. It was probably destined to fail, but why?” Alan wondered. John began to make himself a little bit more comfortable. How could he… tell Alan in a way he might understand?

“Maybe they just can’t fix everybody like they think they can. Some people are better left by themselves,” John pondered, most times, it felt that way, “Even if they don’t want to be alone, maybe it’s better for them.”

Alan hums in understanding, in response to his hands getting cold, he slips them in his pocket.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Alan apologizes, somehow feeling as though he could have helped him, “Maybe I could have… helped you.”

“Don’t apologize, please. Unlike them, you’ve done everything right.” John insists, Alan was a bit taken aback by the acknowledgement. It wasn’t something that meant much of anything to Alan. But to hear John say that? 

Fulfilling. Nothing short of fulfillment.

“Thank you,” Dutch smiles, placing his hand back onto John’s shoulder, “Does that mean you still wanna see me?”

“I never said I  _ didn’t  _ want to see you. You’re nice to have around… You seem to know how to help me, I admire that.” John mentions, “I appreciate the fact that you’re not tired of me.”

Alan chuckles, hopping over the bench so that he could sit next to John, he takes a seat. Throwing his arms over the bench.

“I try. To be a good  _ therapist _ at least.” Alan claimed.  _ Therapist _ , by now that name left a bad taste in John’s mouth. 

“You aren’t anything like them.” John replied, simply. He hated the fact that he compared himself to them, even though they didn’t  _ feel  _ the same. Not to him, at least.

Alan laughs, placing his head on the palm of his hand.

“I don’t think being a therapist is what you think it means,” Alan claims, “Sometimes, therapy can be just talking to someone that you trust.”

John nodded in agreement, he closed his eyes. Trying to find warmth in cold weather he was surrounded in. Opening his eyes again, he exhales. Observing his hot breath enter the cool air.

“Do you trust me, John?” Alan pondered, did he? It was hard to tell, especially due to how inclusive John seemed.

John froze, staring at the ground for a little bit.  _ Did he? _ John began to tilt his head, turning to make eye contact with Alan. 

“Yeah, I do.” John answered, he wasn’t sure why. Somehow he just did, he hasn’t even known him for that long. Maybe, it’s because Alan was somebody John could relate to in terms of the war, and how he feels, maybe he was being too trusting? Maybe John shouldn’t even trust his emotions? Let alone, himself?

“Thanks, man.” Alan nods, as he ruffles up John’s hair. John didn’t really do much of anything in response. Only softly chuckled, as Alan stood up. When was the last time he had actually let out a genuine chuckle? If he couldn’t remember, it’s probably been too long.

“I’m gonna go home, Alright?” Alan infomed, “Don’t get caught.”

John grins, following with a nod.

“I got it, thanks.” John replied, Alan began to nod. Saying his farewells to John, before heading his separate way. 

John began to watch his walk away, until he couldn’t see Alan walking anymore. John stood up, maybe he should go home too. Snow dripped from his pants, though John didn’t particularly mind this.

He dusts his jacket off, looking around to see if anybody was coming, but no. Not a single person. He begins to walk to his place, clearly a lot was on his mind.

Why  _ did  _ Alan care so much? Care so much about him? He wasn’t opposed to it, it just felt…  _ new. _ Not a lot of people care about John, sofor someone who met him through therapy to care about him as much as he did, felt really uncommon.

John wasn’t going to claim that he felt special, but he actually felt  _ wanted _ . That wasn’t what he was expecting, and he wasn’t sure if he should try to avoid that or not.

Opening the door to his home, he invites himself in. Allowing his jacket to air out on the rack, his jeans soon joined it.

John began to sit down on his bed, trying to study… whatever this was. He felt  _ closer _ , to Alan. And he didn’t know how to feel about it, or how he should react to it.

Perhaps… It’d be easier to sleep it off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _ you make me feel special _


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy april fools but I swear that this update isn’t a prank lmaoaoaoaoao also ALSO
> 
> I keep writing at like 4am so if there are like a lot of spelling errors I um... sorry 😔

There was no surprise to anyone who knew John well enough that he spent the beginning of his day alone again. Except, this time he wasn’t stuck in bed. He made an attempt to move around a little bit, John could never stand to stay still for too long. He wasn’t serving anymore, so there wasn’t like he had a reason to do that anymore. Besides, moving around helped John clear his head a little bit.

It was still very early in the morning, eight or nine in the morning. Still really cold outside, but it was beginning to warm up a little bit.

John felt himself getting a little bit better, that was a good thing. That was a  _ great  _ thing, it wasn’t a major change, but it was still...progress. Progress without those damned pills.

John sits on the small couch Sam had gifted him a little while back. Looking out the window, he wasn’t sure he was expecting to see, but he felt like he was expecting  _ something _ .

It wasn’t a bad feeling, actually. It was quite a pleasant one. A  _ warm  _ one. John lets out a relaxed, but melancholy sigh as he began to lean back into his couch.

John closed his eyes, sitting in nothing but peace and quiet for a little bit. John’s relaxed, for a little bit. Allowing himself to get used to the tranquility of the house. His eyes stay closed, he stays relaxed, until he hears a knock at the door. Which caused John to jump a little bit.

He lets out another sigh as he hoists himself up from the couch, he approaches the door, opening it to meet Alan.

Something seeing Alan at the door felt a little bit different than it did maybe when they first met, he felt a little bit more  _ attached  _ to the taller Austrian. The feeling he was now getting from him wasn’t familiar, but it also wasn’t new.

John felt safe, maybe even secure around Alan. Was he allowed to feel that way? About something, or someone? He’s used to being the one protecting somebody, when it was the other way around it felt so unnatural to John.

“Alan?” John greeted. His stomach dropped, it felt like his heart almost jumped out of his chest but perhaps it was because he wasn’t expecting to see him at all today

“You could use a haircut.” Alan commented, that was probably one of the most random things that he’s ever said to John so far. As random as it was, it was… true.

“Why?” John cocked a brow as he opened the door a little bit wider, allowing Alan to walk inside. Alan patted him on his back on his way in, rubbing the nape of his neck.

“I think it’d look nice on you.” Alan suggested. It made John furrow his brows, he wasn’t trying to impress anybody. But, maybe he needed a haircut for a  _ different  _ reason.

“Haircuts are nice,” Alan inquired, “They make me feel new. Maybe, it will help you feel a  _ little  _ better.”

That didn’t sound like such a terrible idea, only downside is that John thinks he has to leave his house for that. They both knew how much he  _ didn’t _ want to do that, wasn’t like Alan was gonna force him to leave his house to cut his hair a little bit shorter.

“Maybe… I have an old hairclipper a buddy of mine gave to me a couple years back,” John recalled, if he recalled correctly, he died too, “I’m not sure why he gave it to me. God knows, I don’t cut hair.” John grumbled. He tugged at his grey tank top as he observed Alan making his way to the couch, Alan nodded as he began to turn his head so that he could see John.

“I cut hair. I used to, anyway. I never did anything  _ shocking _ , just buzz cuts for myself and anyone else who wanted one.” Alan shrugged, he even got paid to cut hair from time to time. 

“You do?” John wonders, as he tilts his head. It wasn’t as though he found it strange, he just didn't know Alan was a guy who used to cut hair. Even if all they were were buzz cuts.

“I may not be as good as a used to be,” Alan warned as he tilted his head, “But, I’m not gonna fuck up your hair. Promise.”

Alan joked, earning a very  _ low  _ and soft laugh. A laugh, from John Rambo. He didn’t think it was possible, even if it was quiet and sounded awkward. That  _ must  _ have meant something.

“Yeah? Alright, I think I know where I put it…” John attempts to recall, it’s in his room, somewhere. He just doesn’t know where he put it, but he knows it’s encased somewhere.

“Let me handle it when you find it.” Alan recommended, it probably wasn’t the best idea to request that. But, maybe John knows he wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.

“Sure.” John answered from his room, without hesitation. It surprised Alan a little bit, maybe after the course of a few weeks, John was beginning to trust him?

It didn’t take too long for John to find it, the room he stayed in was never dirty anyway. As John never did much of anything to it, simplicity is best he feels.

John grabs the case, and begins to examine it. He remembers the day one of his buddy’s gave this to him, yet doesn’t remember  _ why _ . Wasn’t important now, supposedly.

Walking out of the room with it, he begins to approach Alan. Handing him the case that the hair clipper in it, Alan begins to wake up in a slight jump as the case hits his thigh. He takes it, but doesn’t open the case just yet.

“I’ll just… wait in the bathroom for you.” John brought up, and Alan nods. Doing what he could to wake himself up.

John enters the bathroom, closing the door behind him, but leaving it unlocked so that Alan could walk in whenever he was ready.

John begins to look into the mirror, already aware of the battle he was about to have with himself. He can already feel the scars on his chest pulsate, even though they’ve well already healed. He doesn’t wanna touch them, that’d be… too much to handle.

Removing his tank top, John drops it on the floor next to him. So, it was just himself, and the mirror he was glaring at. He felt so exposed, even though these scars had enough time to heal the still felt so…  _ new _ . And it caused a lot of confusion, but he soon began to stop obsessing over it. It never did him any good, all it did was take him back.

He climbs into the bathtub, not doing much of anything aside from waiting for Alan. The dripping water falling out of the faucet was making John feel a little bit uneasy, but on nights where he has no choice, all he can do is tune it out.

“I’m sorry for the wait,” Alan apologized, almost bursting through the door, “I’m here.”

Alan’s eyes traveled over John, who appears to be sitting in the tub, with his knees up, and his arms wrapped around his legs. John’s sitting in a hunched position, but for whatever reason he sits up straight as soon as he walked into the bathroom.

The scars printed onto John’s chest catches the attention of Alan, though Alan brought his attention to something else as soon as he could. He never wanted to touch on anything too sensitive, or make John feel a certain way because his scars caught his attention. Wasn’t like John cared all that much though.

“It’s fine,” John nodded, “I’m not rushing you.”

Alan nods, climbing into the bathtub with John, this case now making his way into his left hand. Alan places the case down, slightly hesitant to the idea of opening the case, there was something he needed to be sure of before he opened it.

“John,” Alan sighs, popping off one of the locks, “You trust me, right?”

Confused, but understanding why that was asked, John thinks about it for a minute. Alan’s been in his corner for awhile now, and it made John feel good. It made him feel like he wasn’t alone anymore, on this road to recovery. And even though John was used to being alone. It felt nice, just  _ this  _ time, that he wasn’t.

“Yeah, I trust you.” John answered, he knew Alan wouldn’t try anything. He had his trust, but was trying to decide if that was a good idea or not.

“Good,” Alan sighed, washing out the clipper, “I just wanted to be sure.”

“How short should I cut it?” Alan questioned as he plugged in the clipper, but the question only received a shrug from John.

“I don’t care.” John answered. Alan began to quickly run his fingers through his hair, he was going to be here for a little bit.

“Really short, then.” Alan whispered to himself jokingly.

Took a long while, not because John was constantly wincing in pain. In fact, John was completely still the entire time. Though, it felt like no matter how long he spent cutting off an area of John’s hair, it seemed like  _ more  _ hair would grow back.

John’s hair was all over the bathtub, you couldn’t walk anywhere in the tub without stepping in hair. But, at least he’d be able to run his hands on John’s head.

Alan gave him a buzz cut, very simple, but John was able to pull it off, even if he wasn’t trying to.

“How’s it feel?” Alan wondered, turning on the faucet only so that he could wash off the clipper.

“Different,” John replies, watching the water fall between the jagged spaces between clipper, “It’s not bad though.”

“Good, because we were here for awhile.” Alan huffed in a laugh, and John awkwardly tilted his head.

Alan had already made his way out of the bathroom, the track of hair following him out of the bathroom up until he made it to the bathroom door.

John stands up, electing to wash off whatever was in the tub and still on his head. In a long sigh, he steps out the shower. Before walking out, he takes a good look at himself in the mirror. The buzz cut shouldn’t have felt new to him, he’s had one of these before… maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen himself like this in awhile? It didn’t look terrible though, not that John cared that much about how it looked. He was just told that it’d make him feel better. And it… kinda did.

John walks out the bathroom in a nod, heading for his room, as his shorts slightly began to start drip onto the floor.

It wasn’t a surprise to him to see Alan in his room, not exactly waiting for him, but it  _ could  _ be inferred. Alan was looking around his room, which was kinda strange considering there was almost  _ nothing  _ in the room but maybe he just felt like walking around.

Maybe so, Alan felt like walking around. With a question he meant to ask this veteran months ago, but never got around to doing so.

“John, you don’t seem to like counsling all that much.” Alan commented, looking out the window.

John crossed his arms, keeping his stoic expression as he walked a little bit closer to Alan.

“Am I supposed to?” John responded, only for Alan to shake his head. Slightly afraid that he had said something wrong.

“No,” Alan shakes his head, “I’m just curious as to why.”

His arms are still crossed, and his expression seemed to drop a little bit. If it could even be said that it  _ dropped. _

“I feel like I know. But, I wanna see if I’m right.” Alan explained.

In a huff, John begins to sit down on his bed. Staring out the window with Alan, there were a whole lot of reasons why he didn’t like that place: the environment, the idea, how different it felt. But, there was one singular reason that always made John so uneasy about attending that god awful building.

“I don’t trust that place,” Trust. “What good has it done me? I still can’t… help myself. They give me these fucking pills, and they do nothing, so I stop taking them. Something about that place… I really don’t like it.”

That’s what it was, trust. Alan knew it.

“Something good came out of it, at least.” Alan reminded, looking away from whatever it was he was looking at. Soon, beginning to lock eyes with the older veteran.

“Something good?” John fixated, “Something good. Like what?”

“We met.”

The point Alan had just mad left John almost speechless, the man rarely ever talked but he’s never been in a situation where he was just too nervous to say anything.

The two of them only began to stare at each because they couldn’t find a less uncomfortable way to break eye contact. John just began to let out a long sigh, nodding, with an awkward grin.

“Maybe going wasn’t such a bad idea after all.” John states as pats Alan on his back, approaching the window once again. 

John began to stare out the window, just so that he could… think. Alan began to look in his direction, for no particular reason other than to see what it was that John was about to do. Or, maybe even say. In a sigh, John begins to turn back around. Crossing his arms, as he leaned up against the window sill.

“Alan, do you wanna stay again?” John offered, sheepishly. Alan could feel a vibe coming off of the offer, it felt a little nervous, maybe even embarrassed. There was nothing for John to be embarrassed about, Alan would do almost anything for his  _ only  _ friend.

“Sure,” Alan accepted, “I’ll stay for as long as you want me to.”

“Thanks, I hope you don’t mind.” John thanked, walking back over to his bed with his arms still crossed.

“It’s alright, John.” Alan said, “You enjoy my company, don’t you?”

Another awkward laugh seemed to escape John, to take away anxiety boiling at the bottom of his stomach. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle the way he felt, he’s never felt this way before. Maybe nobody except for Trautman, but John assumed that was because he was his colonel.

“Sure, something like that.” John chuckled as he sat next to Alan.

Either, Alan was just  _ now  _ beginning to intimidate John. Or, John cared about Alan in a way that was  _ deeper  _ than what they have now.

“I don’t mind that, I enjoy your company too.” Alan remarked. That felt really good to hear. To John, it really did mean something. He actually felt  _ wanted _ , and he may never say it because he just doesn’t have the words for it, but that’s all John’s really ever wanted.

To have someone enjoy it when he was around.

It was beginning to get a little bit late, the two of them spent most of the afternoon talking to each other about all that was left to talk about.

Evening rolled in, and Alan went to go get something to eat for the two of them so that John wouldn’t have to settle for canned food and crackers.

As it progressively got darker, the two of them began to move back into John’s room. Alan began to look around the room, not exactly sure what to do about the bedding situation. But, it seemed John picked up on the quickly, and began to work on it as soon as the idea came into his head.

“Wait here.” John instructed, making his way into other room to push the guest bed into his room. Alan could hear what he was doing, and couldn’t help but snort at the idea of John trying to push a bed into his room.

Alan got up when John was halfway through the hall pushing the bed into his room. It made a  _ god-awful _ screeching noise as it was being dragged across the floor. But, Alan could seem to bare it pretty well.

“Let me help.” Alan insisted, helping John by pulling the bed in his direction. After Alan decided to help him, putting the other bed in John’s room became a lot easier. Perhaps, he wasn’t as big as he was for no reason.

“Thanks.” John nodded. Though, all Alan did was shrug it off.

“We’re roommates for the night,” Alan stated as he fell onto his bed, turning to face John before he could get comfortable, “It was the least I could do.”

“If it makes you feel any better.” John let go, in a sigh. Lying down, but made sure to do so in a way where he was still facing Alan.

They don’t say much after that, all they begin to do is shift their positions, thinking about whatever it was that the two of them frequently. For Alan, all he wanted to do was recover.

But, John? John thought about a lot, too much at one time. When he wasn’t distracted by anything, or anyone. It was just him and his thoughts, John never liked his thoughts. They often scared him.

For the sake of himself and Alan, all John was able to do was silently freeze up. He’s done it every other night before this one, tonight shouldn’t be too hard, right?

“John?” Alan interrupted, causing John to jump a little bit.

“Yeah?” John responded, beginning to lie back down.

“Thanks for keeping me around for as long as you have. I don’t have much of  _ anyone  _ else. So, I want you to know that I appreciate what we have.”

For whatever reason, that’s been on Alan’s chest for awhile. And he’s only just now remembering to tell John this. It wasn’t all that relevant, Alan just thought that he should know.

John suddenly started to feel warm, something he hasn’t felt in…  _ god _ , who really knows how long? An awkward grin began to appear on John’s face, a grin that nobody could see.

He took a deep breath, nodding at the idea of being appreciated. And the fact that it didn’t need to be an  _ idea _ anymore, made it better for the smaller veteran.

“Thanks, I… appreciate you too.” John replied.

Sleeping… wasn’t as hard as it was a few nights ago. Unlike other days, where John would spend his days and nights alone, he was with somebody today. He wasn’t sure why it made him feel… content. But, it did. He had time to feel guilty about it later, at the moment, all he wanted was some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dude. I’m literally almost finished with this fic, that’s so crazy for me to think about HAHA oh i’m not even that into Rambo anymore and I’m not really sure what’s keeping me motivated but y’know. As sly ALWAYS says (he literally won’t stop) keep punching ! 👹


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